A Truth: Barry's Story
by Ara E R Took
Summary: One fateful night Lily and James Potter were murdered. However, when this story is told a detail is often left out: there were twins. please R&R! Complete
1. Prolouge: The Beginning

Barry Potter - What Really Happened   
  
Prologue-   
A twig snapped. James lifted his weary head. There was a rustling in the garden. He slowly stood and gazed out the window, into an empty lawn. He sighed deeply. Of course it was empty.   
"What is it, James?" He looked down at Lily, sitting on the couch with the twins in her arms. He ruffled the smaller one's hair.   
"Nothing. There's no one there." He sat down beside Lily, putting an arm gently over her shoulder. She looked at him with wide eyes, still shaken.   
"James, I heard something. There is someone-"   
"There's no one in the garden, Lily. It was probably just a stray cat." Lily sighed and rested her head on James' strong shoulder. She looked at the two bundles she held in her arm. They were moving slowly up and down. James stretched out a warm, white hand and pushed the blankets back. Two little faces shone up at them, identical twin boys asleep in their mother's lap. Lily smiled, then whispered quietly,   
"Barry and Harold Potter. What will the world be like for you?"   
James kissed his wife's forehead. "Let's hope it will be better than this one."   
There was a crunch from the gravel path. James looked toward the door. "Lily," he breathed, "Lily, why don't you take the kids upstairs."   
She nodded and they slowly rose from the couch. Lily began backing quietly toward the stairs while James padded quietly toward the door. He drew his wand from his pocket.   
"James...." He turned toward his wife. Lily stood on the stairs, a twin on each arm. There were tears streaming silently down her cheeks. "James, please... don't do anything foolish.... James..."   
The door knob jingled, and James green eyes flashed to it. "Get going," he whispered through clenched teeth, "Get them upstairs, get out of here." He slowly raised his wand. Lily took a few more steps backward, her eyes on the door as well. They could both hear cloaks scratching against each other. Suddenly all was still.   
James felt a single bead of sweat trickle down his face. He licked it off his lip. His green eyes flicked over the door, knowing now who was behind it. For the first time in his life, James was afraid.   
The door burst open. "Run!" James yelled as a burst of light exploded from the end of his wand. A long sinewy hand reached in past the door, wand on high. The light shattered, and James was flung against the wall. He struggled to open his eyes as pain exploded inside him, he had broken his back. A tall shadow stepped into the room, followed by it's caster. A lean, snake-like face leered at James, swimming in and out of focus.   
It was getting harder and harder to breath, but James managed to ask, "Why, Tom? Why us?"   
Cold laughter rang trough the air. "Can't you guess, James? I mean, the least you could have done was invite me to the wedding. Then your children wouldn't have to die too."   
James struggled up onto his elbow, raising his wand again. "You son of a bitch! Leave Lily and the kids out of this!" He felt his wand torn from his hand, and watched it fly through the air to the other's hand. He gasped for breath, every inch of his body shivering from the pain. The shadow was advancing toward him, pointing it's wand at his heart.   
"Well, James, this is the end," said the cold voice, "I do hope you'll forgive me for letting you live so long. But you see, James, I was right. Evil will always win in the end." A face lowered itself before him. It was sickly white, with great red eyes like a serpent. The slit nostrils seemed to suck in the scent of James' blood, and the twitchy smile showed he ensjoyed it. "Ah, James, as your friend I must tell you this. I will enjoy killing you twice as much as anyone else to date."   
James head was spinning, but thoughts flashed through his head like never before. He knew he was dying, even if Tom didn't kill him he would die.... so he would die the death of the fool-hardy and brave. His lips curled into an evil smile, and through them passed the one word he had never spoken. "Mudblood!"   
Voldemort leapt away from James, screeching in a spasm of anger. His face was transformed into a horror beyond belief, and James gasped even as his breath failed him. The black voice sang through the air, "Avada Kedavra!" and James knew no more.   
Lily sat on the bed, children in her arms. The door swung open. Her pale green eyes flashed. "What do you want from me? What have you done with James?"   
Tom laughed softly. "Don't you know?" He turned his great red eyes on her, and Lily shuddered. He approached her slowly, saying, "Dear Lily, all alone, husband dead, two children, rejected by her family, rejected by the world...." His pale face bent toward hers. "But not by me."   
Lily shrank from him as he continued. "Lily, why did you marry Potter? I was the one who loved you Lily, it was always me! I waited for you that day, waited until I was nearly frozen to death. And even after that, Lily, I loved you. That filthy Potter was so flashy, so handsome.... you never noticed me except to laugh at me." Tom placed a hand on Lily's trembling shoulder. "Lily, James Potter is dead. But you aren't. This is your chance. Join me, and you'll live. Love me, Lily..."   
Lily raised her head proudly. "Never."   
Tom recoiled, looking at her down his flat nose. "Lily, Lord Voldemort does not speak lightly when he offers his victims life over death."   
"You aren't Lord Voldemort, you aren't Lord anything. You're Tom Riddle," she spat, rising, "And I don't love you."   
Tom slowly drew his wand. "I'm sorry, Lily, but Tom Riddle is dead. I killed him."   
A beam of light shot from the end of his wand, and one of the babies flew screaming out the window. "Barry!!" Lily cried, reaching after her child. But she stopped, feeling a wand on her neck.   
"Last chance, Lily."   
"I hate you."   
"So be it. It's really too bad, Lily, because I really do love you." Tom grabbed her waist and drew her toward him. He kissed her, then before she could protest or scream he through her out again and said quietly, "Avada Kedavra." 


	2. Midnight Talk

Barry Potter - Chapter 1   
  
Barry woke up in a cold sweat. He searched for his glasses on his bedside table. Putting them on, he swung his legs out of the bed and stumbled down the stairs. Coren woke with a start as Barry clattered above him. He sighed. Something had gotten into Barry lately. Coren lay down again, resting a hand on Spyke's shaggy head. The shepherd sighed in her sleep, warm and comfortable on Coren's bed.   
Barry poured water into the kettle and placed it on the stove. Then he pulled down some tea and a few stale crumpets from the week before. As he watched the kettle he tried to remember his dream. There had been lots of people in long, swirling cloaks talking and laughing. He had been a baby, swaddled in his mother's arms.... his mother.... Barry closed his eyes, trying to picture her again. Barry had never known his mother. His father Coren never talked about her, except to tell Barry he looked just like her. Barry furrowed his brow in concentration. If he could just call back her face....   
And suddenly it was there. A woman's face swam before him, a bright happy face, laughing with joy as she tucked him in. There was another, a man he couldn't place, standing tall behind the woman and beaming down on him. They spoke in soft voices, then the woman leaned over him. "Good night, children," she cooed. Barry frowned. Children? The woman leaned over toward another child he couldn't see, though he could hear it now. The other baby was dozing, snoring lightly. The woman kissed the baby, then leaned over Barry, about to kiss his forehead...   
"Huh? Fluffy, yuck!" Barry pushed the sheep dog away from his face. Fluffy jumped up on his hind feet, landing on Barry's knees, and continued to lick his master's chin. Barry laughed and pushed the pup away. "You're bloody crazy, Fluff."   
The kettle whistled, and Barry rose to get it. He poured out the boiling water, feeling the hot steam lick gently at his face. He heard noises from Coren's room, and heard his father's muffled voice call, "Is there tea on, then, Barry?"   
"Yes, would you like some?" A grunt and the creak as Coren rolled from bed told him yes, and he pulled down another cup and more crumpets.   
Spyke bounded into the room, followed more slowly by Coren. Fluffy yipped when Spyke trotted toward him, waking up the third dog, Fang the St. Bernard. Fang yawned and arose, lopping over to where Coren sat at the little kitchen table. Coren reached down and gently pet the old dog's balding head while Spyke and Fluffy amused themselves trying to trip Barry and the tea.   
Barry managed to maneuver his way to the table and set down the tea beside the cakes. Coren stiffly reached over and took his cup, raising it slowly to his lips. He glanced over the top of the cup at Barry, whose bright green eyes watched him lovingly. Finally he set his mug down and, reaching for a crumpet, said, "Well, out with it then. What's bothering you?"   
Barry sighed, reaching down to scratch Spyke behind the ear. After a moment he said, "Father, where's Mum?"   
Coren spit some of his tea back into the cup. "Barry, you know I don't like to talk-"   
"She ran away, didn't she?"   
"What?"   
"It's okay, I had a dream about it," Barry's green eyes glimmered as he pushed his unruly hair out of them, "She was there, but she wasn't with you, she was with someone else. And there was another baby. What happened? Did you fight, and she took the other one and left me with you? Is that it?"   
Coren looked deeply into the boy's eyes. 'He really thinks he's struck on something this time,' he told himself, "He's old enough. I should tell him the truth.'   
He cleared his throat and said, "Barry, you're 17 years old. Quite ready for what I have to tell you." The boy sat still, every muscle focused on hearing Coren's words. "You see, my boy, I'm not really your father. I adopted you."   
Barry frowned. That was not what he had expected. Then his face lit up, and he said, "Well, that explains why there aren't any photographs. Are you still in touch with them? Does my brother know who I am?"   
Coren hesitated. That was not what he had expected. He tried to think of the best way to put things, which was: "Barry, I have know idea who your parents were or if you had a brother. Fact is, I found you, or rather, you found me. There weren't any parents to speak of."   
Barry sat silently, no longer watching Coren but staring into his mug. He looked up as if to say something, but Coren raised his hand, saying, "No, Barry, this is it. It's time you knew the truth. Now don't interrupt me , or I'll get confused, alright? Now, here we go." He took a deep breath, a bite of his crumpet and a sip of his tea, then began. 


	3. The Boy Who Almost Didn't Live

Barry Potter - Chapter 2  
  
"About 17 years ago, I was out in the parlor, closing up shop. The last customer had asked for a big red rose, and I was just putting the design away when I heard a big crash. I ran back in, thinking some boys were tossing rocks about. But do you know what I found? A bloomin' baby in swaddling!" Coren paused to let that sink in. Barry seemed unfazed, so he finished lamely, "And that was you."   
There was a beat while Barry waited for the old man to continue. Coren, however, seemed to have no intention of doing so. He reached out his hand, though a moment, then took a rather large crumpet and dunked it in his tea.   
Barry started. "But you mean, that's it?"   
"Yup," said Coren through a mouthful of crumbs.   
"What do you mean?" Barry asked in disbelief, "You didn't look for my parents? You just said, 'Oh look, a baby boy, I'll name him Barry and tell him he's my son.' ?"   
"Now see here, young man!" Coren barked sharply. Barry stopped out of respect for the old man, even though he wasn't his father. "Barry, I'll tell you what I did. I sent you next door to my sister's while I searched for your parents. But poor dear, she got ill, so I took you in again. Boy, I searched all of England looking for your folks. Even called in Scotland Yard, but not a trace. So in the end I was brought up to the adoption agency, and they told me I was to adopt you temporarily. They kept lookin for your parents, but to this day haven't found them. I'm sorry, Barry," Coren lowered his voice, and Barry remembered in this new tone the voice that had sung him to sleep when he woke, that had soothed his fear and scared away his 'monsters'. Barry lowered his eyes as Coren continued, "I tried to raise you right. All I wanted was to do for you what I would have done for my own. Forgive me any harm I've done. I just wanted to raise you the way you should be raised, straight and true as an arrow. I love you as a son, Barry, but I don't ask you to keep loving me as a father. You'll be going to university soon, you don't need me any longer. Just remember that if you need a shoulder, it's right here."   
Coren patted his shoulder and took a sip of tea. Barry looked up at him, watching his every move. This was the man who tucked him in at night, who kissed him good bye in the morning. This was the man who put bandages on his scrapes and picked him up if he fell. Coren had taught him what it meant to work hard and never give up. He had raised Barry, as he put it, right. Thinking back, Barry realized that Coren had been the only adult in his life who really cared about him. His teachers were indifferent, those who passed him on the street walked right by. Even his so-called friends seemed to shun him when they could. But Coren had never faltered in his devotion, not when Barry had broken his arm, not when he had caught the smallpox, not when he had ridden his bicycle off a cliff in an attempt at suicide. Coren had always been there, dressing his wounds, making him tea, laughing and telling jokes, in a word looking out for him. Barry saw now, for the first time, how old Coren was. He thought about his rash words and couldn't stop the tears of shame from springing to his eyes. He tried to sniff them back, but Coren glanced up at him. It was more than his teenage heart could handle.   
"Dad!" he cried, rushing into Coren's open arms. He barely fit in Coren's lap, but Barry didn't care. He leaned sobbing on his old friend's shoulder, while the man gently rocked the boy back and forth in his arms.   
"It's okay, son. It's okay, Barry ma boy." Barry raised his head, wiping the subsiding tears from his red eyes.   
"No, no, I'm sorry.."   
"What in the world are you sorry for, lad? It's okay, Barry."   
Barry's eyes met Coren's, and he smiled weakly. "Well," he said, trying to conjure up a happier mood, "At least now nothing you can tell me will ever come as a shock."   
Coren grinned. "How much are you willing to bet?"   
"100 pounds!" Barry exclaimed, laughing a little. He wiped away a stray tear, asking, "I mean, what else is there to tell me? That my name really is Barry P. Nesbit? That my scar didn't come from a car accident?" Barry grinned, sweeping back his hair to revel the lightening-shaped scar that stood out against his pale skin on his forehead.   
Coren cleared his throat. Barry stared blankly at him. Then he tilted his head a little, asking, "Those things are true, right?"   
"Well..." Coren shifted his weight, which is difficult to do with a 17-year-old on your lap. He coughed, then said, "Well, Barry, here's the truth of it all. The police needed some kind of lead to find you parents, right? So I was packing you up in your blanket to bring you to the station when I noticed your name on the blankets. Your mum had done sewn a little name tag on it. So your name really is Barry, Barry Potter in fact. But," he continued before Barry could interrupt, "there were no records of Potters anywhere in England. Well, there was a birth certificate from the 1730s, but other than that, no legal records or documents at all. Seeing as I had to adopt you, my name was added to yours, so your name really is Barry Potter Nesbit. As to your scar," he gestured at the boy's head, "that was a combination of things. When you fell through the window, your head was somewhat cut by the glass. Then you landed among my pens. I hadn't unplugged the red one I had just used, and your poor forehead hit it. So that mark on your forehead isn't from a car crash. It's a combination scar-tattoo. And I must say," Coren concluded, "It looks rather dashing and alluring on you. Someday, some girl is going to se-"   
"See it and love it, and I'll be all set, I know, I know," Barry laughed as he stood and stretched. He leaned down to pet Spyke, who had leaped to her feet when he had burst into tears and was still trotting nervously around him. She licked his hand and nose as he said, "You've only told me a million times before." Then he started to walk off toward the stairs.   
"Where you going?" Coren called, turning in his chair.  
Barry called over his shoulder, "To get that 100 pounds I owe you!" They both laughed, and Barry walked out of the kitchen, Spyke and Fluffy at his heels.   
Barry had just taken the first step up the stairs when he heard a rustle and the mail flap lift. He turned and saw it swing shut as a letter fell to the ground. Fluffy sniffed it gingerly. Barry frowned, "That's odd. It's two in the morning, and mail is supposed to arrive at the shop..." He shoved the door open and looked down the deserted alley. There was no one there, just a stray barn owl sitting on the lamppost. For one crazy second, Barry thought the owl had delivered the letter. 'No,' he thought, 'It must've been something else. Owls don't deliver letters...'   
And yet the thought had come so quickly, and had seemed so natural.... 'No,' Barry told himself, 'No. The owl is just a coincidence.' Still, he shut the door quickly, not wanting to look at that owl again.   
He bent down and picked up the mysterious letter. It was on strange paper, like the parchment people used to use before modern paper had been developed. The handwriting too was odd and gothic, while the ink was uneven and green, like it had been written with an old fashioned quill. Barry looked at the letter, then jumped a little when he saw the address:   
  
Barry Potter   
Behind the Store   
Rush Delivery   
  
Barry reentered the kitchen, looking curiously at the letter. He couldn't make heads or tales of the return address. Coren looked up. "Is that my 100 pounds?"   
"No," Barry shook his head, "No, it's a letter. It's addressed to me, but I don't know who the sender is."   
"Isn't there a return address?"   
"All it says is 'Hogwarts School, Please reply with school owl.' What's that supposed to mean?" 


	4. Feather and Parchment

Barry Potter - Chapter 3   
  
Coren spat out his tea. "What about an owl?"   
Barry shrugged. "Dunno... It all seems so weird..." He didn't mention the owl outside. Coren eyed him as he turned the letter over in his hands. The weight of the letter, the feel of the parchment, the rustle as he turned it all seemed right. But they were wrong, weren't they?   
He glanced up. Coren was sipping his tea again. The old man regarded him as he gazed down at the letter again. "Well, aren't you going to open it?"   
Barry jumped, nearly dropping the letter. "Wha-? Oh, yeah, yeah, may I?" Coren nodded, smiling.   
"It's addressed to you."   
"Oh, right." Barry blushed. Nothing ever came addressed to him. Even his progress reports from school were addressed to Coren. He gently broke the wax seal, unfolding the letter. The whole thing was written in the same, uneven green ink and meticulous handwriting. His eyes filtered over the page, then he began to read out loud.   
"Dear Barry Potter-   
My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is my great pleasure to inform you that after 17 years of searching, we have finally found you. You have already been told your story by your caretaker, no doubt, so now I will step in and tell you the rest. Your parents, Lily and James Potter, were wizards. They attended Hogwarts, and were some of the best, brightest students the school has ever seen. Your brother, Harry, currently attends Hogwarts as well. In fact, he has become somewhat of a celebrity in the past few years. I'm sure he would be charmed to finally met you.   
Now Barry, I must also tell you what happened to your parents. The night you arrived at the house you now live in, your parents were murdered. A great dark wizard by the name of Voldemort killed your parents, apparently tried to kill you, and maimed your brother. Fortunately, his attack on Harry rebounded upon himself, very nearly killing him. I must regretfully confess that he has come somewhat back to power. Your safety, Barry, is one of my greatest concerns now, for the Dark Lord has risen with a vengeance. I fear he may come after you. Therefore, I have decided to send one of the teachers at Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall, to watch over you this year. Then, I would like to invite you to join the rest of the school for the graduating festivities at the end of the year. Professor McGonagall will have more information for you, and will be able, I believe, to answer any questions you may have. If you would please just scribble out a reply stating when and where you will be able to receive Professor McGonagall, it would greatly aid us in getting her there and keeping you safe. Please feel free to use the school owl, who has been directed to take any response you may have directly to me. We are so glad to have found you, and eagerly await your response.   
Signed,   
Albus Dumbledore"   
"Well, what do you make of that?"   
Barry looked up at Coren, who sat staring into space over his mug. Barry glanced over the letter again, hardly daring to believe it. He turned his eyes back to Coren again. "I don't know. You?"   
Coren's eyes had a distant look to them as he gazed at a crack in the ceiling. He had been raised by his grandmother, who had always told him that she was a witch. She even threatened to turn him into a toad sometimes. Coren had never been quite sure if he believed her or not, but he did believe in magic. He remembered growing up on the outskirts of a vast, haunted forest. He and his friends would avoid it at all costs, making strange signs and muttering incantations of their own devising. It had never been a game, just a pure terror that the boogie-man or something worse dwelt in those old knarled trees. Now Coren decided that everything he had been taught was true. 'There must be magic,' he told himself, 'There must have been something living in those woods, and Grandma must've been... well, I don't know about Grandma, but everything would fit right if this is true. It must be true.' Turning to Barry, he said aloud, "Well, Barry mah boy, either you've gotten a letter from a wizard or you've gotten a letter from a nutball."   
Barry didn't look up. The letter had felt so... so right. "Coren, are wizards real?"   
"Who am I to say?" Coren replied, eyes twinkling.   
"Why did it take so long to find me?"   
"Dunno."   
"How come I haven't seen any proof of magic before?"   
"Search me."   
"Why is everything happening all at once??" Barry cried, flinging himself down in a chair. Spyke opened her eyes, gazing up at Barry. He bent down and scratched her behind the ear.   
"No idea." Barry looked over at Coren. How could Coren stay so calm at a time like this? Suddenly, Barry felt calm too. It was okay, everything would be all right. He gazed into Coren's benign eyes, feeling his guardian's warmth wash over him. Barry picked the letter a bit, skimming it again. Then he rose, walked to the counter, and calmly picked up a pen. He leaned on the counter, jotting :   
' Please feel free to send the professor at any time. It would be most convenient if she could make her way to the parlor alone, or if we could pick her up at the King's Cross station. If you would send back a time and date, I would be most obliged.   
Signed,   
Barry Potter'   
Barry folded the letter up again and walked to the backdoor. Spyke leaped up to follow him, leaving Fluffy and Fang asleep in the corner. Barry opened the door and found the owl now sitting on the porch rail, holding its leg out for the letter. He mechanically tied the message to the owl, who immediately took off with a hoot. He watched it fly away, sweeping over the moon into the distance. There was a grunt behind him as Coren leaned against the door frame.   
"Coren?"   
"Yeah?"   
"Believe in magic?"   
"Indeed I do. Yourself?"   
"Do now."   
Coren smiled at the speck against the moon. "Good." 


	5. Back to School

Barry Potter - Chapter 4   
  
"Harry! Ron! Time to get up!"   
Harry moaned and rolled over. Bright light slanted through the window, hitting his eyes. He rolled over again, and found his face against his soft, warm blanket. '10 more minutes...' he thought groggily.   
"Ron! Get out of bed! Wake Harry and get yourself down here right now!!"   
"Never..." mumbled a pile of blankets on the next bed. Harry laughed in spite of his very sleepy self.   
"RON WEASLY! WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!" The mumbling blankets suddenly flew up into the air. When they settled, they revealed a very startled Ron sitting up in bed, staring dumbly at the formidable form in the door way. Mrs. Weasly stormed into the room, followed by a giggling Hermione and a blushing Ginny. Harry pushed himself up onto his elbow, making Ginny blush even deeper. Harry glanced down and swiftly pulled his blanket up around him. He had forgotten that he had taken his shirt off before going to bed. Hermione was doubled over in silent laughter while Harry and Ginny blushed furiously and Ron yawned, swinging his feet out over the edge of the bed.   
Mrs. Weasly made sure that both the boys were awake before striding out the door, muttering to herself. Ron stretched and stood, saying, "Well, g'mornin, Harry. Seems that we're awake again."   
Hermione rolled her eyes, plopping down on the end of Harry's bed. Ron glanced toward her and Ginny. "Oh, hey," he said, yawning again as he crossed toward his trunk, "What are you guys doing here?"   
"Making sure you don't go back to sleep." Hermione responded hotly.   
"Fine, fine, keep your head on." Ron muttered, fumbling around for a clean shirt among his school clothes. Harry glanced at Ron. It was amazing how much he had changed in seven years. His scrawny frame had filled out, he was strong and well-formed, and his bright red hair had turned to a much nicer, orangish color. He was by no means handsome, but he was certainly not unattractive. Harry frowned. He had never expected to compete with Ron for girl's attention. He turned toward Hermione, trying to gage her reaction to the change in Ron.   
Hermione, Harry realized, was quite pretty herself. Her bushy hair was much straighter now, and she had lost 10 pounds since he last saw her. She was blossoming rapidly into a lovely young woman, and, Harry noticed, eyeing Ron as though she had never seen him before. This was not surprising, though: as he glanced back, Harry saw that Ron, changing into clean clothes, had taken off his shirt.   
Harry couldn't believe it. "Hermione, Ginny, would you mind leaving now?" he hissed. Ginny nodded and dashed out of the room, but Hermione rolled her eyes.   
"Why?", she asked, not taking her eyes off Ron, who had changed his mind and was looking for another shirt. She winked at Harry, "The show has just begun."   
Ron glanced over his shoulder. "God, Hermione! This isn't some kind of bloody, twisted peep show!" he spat, whirling around.   
Hermione raised an eyebrow as she looked Ron up and down. She grinned craftily, saying, "My! Someone's been working out!"   
Pillows flew after Hermione as she ran giggling from the room. Ron shook his head. As Harry got out of bed, he heard his friend muttering, "Bloody mad, that one. Like a combination of Ginny and Percy, but gone wrong..."   
The boys eventually trooped downstairs, well-dressed. Hermione studied them carefully as they strolled into the kitchen. She hadn't seen either of them all summer. Ron, she too realized, had grown quite attractive since 6th year. Harry was, of course, just as handsome as she had left him. He looked a bit distant and distracted, though. Hermione sighed. After the Hogwarts Massacre, what could she expect? Seamus and Neville had been some of Harry's closest friends. Hermione closed her eyes, thinking of her own friends who had been killed. Pravati, Angelina, and Cho... poor girls, it really wasn't fair, they had just been chatting in the hallway. They had been so happy that Angelina was visiting... now they were gone...   
Harry slumped down into a chair while Ron grabbed them some fruit. He tossed an apple to Harry and began peeling an orange for himself. Harry looked at the apple, then up at Ron. "What's this?"   
"Food. You eat it." Ron popped an orange slice into his mouth. Harry stared at Ron in disbelief.   
"What do you mean?"   
"Harry. Listen to me. That is an apple. You take small bites out of it. It's good for you."   
"Ron, an apple for breakfast?"   
"Yeah."   
"That's it?"   
"What's wrong with an apple?"   
"How could you have survived all summer eating apples for breakfast?"   
"I don't eat apples."   
"What?"   
"I eat oranges."   
"Good God..." Harry muttered, taking a bite of his apple. Ginny glanced nervously between the three friends. Harry looked stormy, Hermione looked worried, and Ron looked sleepy. She cleared her throat, trying to change the subject.   
"Well, at least we'll have good food once we get back to Hogwarts."   
The words had barely left Ginny's mouth when she realized her mistake. She froze, terrified. Ron's eyes flashed warningly at her. She glanced at Hermione, and saw that her friend's eyes were still closed. Burning with color, Ginny sneaked a look at Harry. His face had turned stony, his check bulging out where some apple was sitting mid-chew. Slowly, mechanically, he put down his apple.   
"No sense of eating now, then." Hermione opened her eyes. Her gaze met Harry's across the table and held it. She felt the overwhelming urge to throw herself into his arms and cry. Harry felt a shiver shoot up the back of his spine. He could hardly believe that the girl in front of him was his dear old friend. He opened his mouth to say something, but a vision of Viktor Krum, Hermione's boyfriend, appeared before him. Harry gulped a little, closing his mouth.   
Ron had sat there edgily for a few moments, watching his friends. Finally, he could no longer take the silence. "Well," he said loudly, standing up, "I'm off to get my trunk. The cars'll be here any moment now."   
He quickly slipped out of the room and sprang up the stairs. Ginny rose, blushing, and quickly stepped after her brother, mumbling something about school books. Harry opened his mouth again, and Hermione breathed in sharply. This was it...   
"Er..."   
There was a pause.   
"What, Harry?"   
"Er..."   
Another pause.   
Harry looked at the ceiling, scratching the back of his head as he searched for words. Hermione gazed steadily at Harry, hardly daring to breath. This could be the moment she had been waiting for...   
Harry's eyes sank back to the table as he said, "Hermione?"   
"Yes?"   
"Er..."   
'Oh God,' she thought. "Harry, have you got something to say?"   
"Yes."   
"Well...?"   
"Er... Hermione, reckon we should get our things together as well?"   
"Um... yeah, yeah I suppose." Hermione flashed a weak smile at Harry, then got up and left the room to check her books. The second she left Harry groaned and smashed his head against the table.   
"Stupid... Stupid... Stupid..." he muttered, banging his head softly against the table with each word.   
  
The ride to the station was quiet. In fact, it wasn't until they had all reached the Great Hall that they spoke again. The four of them had come up to the Gryffindor table to find Dean leaning on his elbows, gazing up at the ceiling. Dark clouds swirled across it as rain pattered against the Hall's huge windows. Ron tapped Dean lightly on the shoulder. Dean turned, and they all saw that his eyes were still red and puffy. Ginny pursed her lips and quietly slipped off to find her friends. Ron said gently, "Mind if we sit with you, Dean?"   
Dean's face cracked into a small smile. "Sure," he said in a croaking voice, "Sure, always nice to sit with friends. I mean, I would be saving this seat for Seamus, but..."   
His voice faded off, and a few large tears slid down his face. Hermione slipped into the seat beside him, pulling his head onto her shoulder.   
"It's okay, everything will be fine. Just relax..." She glanced up and down the table. Then, as she glanced around the Hall, it struck her. So many students were gone, afraid to return or... or unable to return...   
Ron sat beside Dean, giving him a pat on the shoulder. Harry slid in beside Ron, and the two boys watched the other students file in. Ron bit his lip, trying to conceal the emotion that surged through him as he saw the empty seats not filling up. Harry stared at the Ravenclaw table. He blinked back a tear, then shifted his eyes toward the Slytherins. Draco Malfoy sat, nonchalantly gazing about the room. He pretended not to have seen his enemies come in, but now that they were seated he let his eyes drift over to Hermione. His eyes lit up a bit, and he said to himself, "Good, she came back."   
Goyle glanced at Draco, then around the room. "Um, who's back?"   
"I wasn't talking to you!" Draco growled, eyes flashing dangerously.   
"S-sorry, Draco."   
Draco calmed himself, saying coolly, "I'll forgive you this time, Goyle. In fact, I'll even tell you who I was talking about."   
Goyle gasped. Draco had never told him anything before. Sure, he had ordered him and Crabbe around, but he never told them what was going on behind that pretty face and evil smile of his. Draco frowned. "What was that for?"   
"What was what for?"   
"That gasp."   
"Uh, nothing."   
"Useless..." Draco muttered to himself. Then he said aloud, "I'll tell you, Goyle. I was talking about the charming Miss. Granger over there."   
"Why are you glad to see her?"   
"Because, you idiot, it means there'll still be a bit of sport this year."   
"Oh, right - So it was you behind the killings, then?"   
Draco gave Goyle a dope slap, and the larger boy grunted. 'Cor, this is beyond pathetic... Sometimes I wonder if I should put the poor git out of his misery...' Goyle looked at Draco, who interrupted his thoughts to say, "Honestly, can't you remember anything?"   
"Uh..."   
"Well?"   
Goyle furrowed his brow. Draco heaved a deep sigh, then said as calmly as he could, "You know as well as I do that it was Pansy."   
"Pansy who?"   
"Pansy Parkinson. You know, that pug-face Crabbe thought he was in love with."   
"Oh... right..."   
"Speaking of him..." Draco glanced over the great hall again.   
"Pansy?"   
"No, Crabbe. Where is he?"   
Goyle frowned, thinking. Then he broke into a grin, declaring proudly, "I know! His father was throw in Azkaban, see, and then he broke out. So the whole family has done picked up and fled to... um... somewhere."   
Draco rolled his eyes. "Typical. You know, you amaze me sometimes, Goyle."   
"Do I? How?"   
"Never mind..." Draco leaned his head on his arm, gazing once again at Hermione.   
"You know what, Draco? If you and your-"   
"Goyle?"   
"Yeah?"   
"Shut up now."   
"Right..."   
Harry frowned at Draco from across the room. He nudged Ron, who glanced at him. "Yeah?" Ron breathed.   
"Who's Malfoy looking at?"   
Ron followed Draco's eyes and soon found his own meeting Hermione's.   
"Er... I think Hermione."   
Harry started. "What??"   
"I dunno, Harry," Ron shook his head, "I've got too much on my hands right now."   
"What'da you mean? You're just sitting there."   
"Look, Harry, you might not understand this, but people have lives beyond you."   
Harry's eyes flashed as he whispered back angrily, "What are you implying?"   
"Harry," Ron glanced into his friend's large green eyes, then back at Dean, "Harry, I don't know if you've let everything go or not, but I haven't."   
"Let go?"   
"Look, Harry, I'm really tired. I don't want to talk about it right now."   
Harry gave a little huff and settled back into his chair. The room was quiet as everyone watched the first years file in. Hermione's eyes flicked over them as they bobbed toward the front of the hall. There were so few of them. People were still scared. Her eyes suddenly lit on the last figures entering the hall. One was Professor Snape, looking gloomier and crankier than ever. Dean looked toward him, frowning. "Where's McGonagall?"   
Hermione frowned, shaking her head as she studied the figure directly before Snape. It was a hooded figure, quite tall, walking silently behind the new students. The hood was drawn down, casting a shadow over the face. Hermione tried to make out the outline of the walker's profile, but the delicate lines were lost in the dim hall. Ron leaned over to Hermione, whispering, "Any idea who the cloak is?"   
"No, you?"   
"None. Dean?"   
"Haven't the foggiest. Harry?"   
Harry watched the form ascend the stairs to the stage, each step measured and sure. Something about those even steps made Harry shiver with fear. It was as though this mystery person had sent a black chill into his heart. "I don't know, but I don't like him one bit."   
"Him?"   
"Yeah, it's a him."   
"Pretty nice figure for a him," Dean pointed out.  
"Hmm... still a him. And I think he's evil."   
Despite the situation, Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, give me a break..." he muttered to himself.   
The Sorting Hat was on the stool, but it wasn't singing. Snape glowered around the room. He unfurled the list of names. "Ardale, Scott."   
"HUFFLEPUFF!"   
Hermione frowned. "Why didn't the Hat sing?"   
"Dunno," Ron replied, "Maybe it's sick."   
"Ron?"   
"What?"   
"Hats can't get sick."   
"Bet you thought hats couldn't talk either."   
"Boyle, Sarah."   
"SLYTHERIN!"   
The friends watched the students slowly dwindle off the stage. There was polite applause as they all hurried, one by one, to their seats. Finally, "Ziggle, Patricia" was sorted into Hufflepuff, and the cloaked figure alone remained standing behind Snape. The figure glanced over its shoulder at the staff table. Harry shuddered as its gaze swept over him. He realized now why it made him afraid: it looked like a young Death Eater or a very small dementor.   
Dumbledore rose majestically, eyes flickering sadly over the room from behind his half-moon spectacles. He paused, taking hold over his emotions, before beginning, "My dear students, I would like to make a few announcements. Firstly, I regret to inform you that our Dark Arts instructor, Professor Moody, and our Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, will not be able to attend school this year. Instead, you will have Professor Snape as your Dark Arts and Potions master, and classes taught by Professor McGonagall will become free periods."   
Snape grinned triumphantly. After all these years, his true talents had finally been discovered. Harry and Ron looked at each other, gulping. They turned to see Hermione's reaction, but she was too shocked by not having Transfiguration to have noticed. They turned back toward the stage as Dumbledore continued,   
"Secondly, and before any other announcements are made, I would like to notify you that we will be having a special guest among us this year. Due to the... the unfortunate incident which occurred last year at this school," many sniffs were heard from the students and faculty alike, "We have decided that it is for the good of the student body that we heighten the security level this year. We decided to bring in a specialist, what's more, to bring in someone close to many of you in age. We hope that by allowing her to blend in with the crowd, you will all feel safer, or in the least, less alarmed. Please allow me to present..."   
He paused again, and leaned forward toward the figure on the stage. "My dear," he said, "Would you mind taking off your hood? I'm sure all the students are eager to know who you are."   
The figure hesitated, but Dumbledore smiled and mumbled something to it no one else could hear. The figure nodded and threw the hood back. Everyone gasped. Before them on the stage stood a beautiful young woman who couldn't have been more than 17 years of age. Long brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her pale white skin shone out against her drab black cloak. But the most striking thing about her was her eyes. Her right eyes was a lovely, almost forest green. Her left eye was a pale but bright purple. As these eyes flashed over the room, Harry felt an unmistakable twinge in his scar. Beside him, everyone else gasped. Harry heard mumbles rising up around him.   
"Is it...?"   
"Can't be..."   
"Couldn't it, though...?"   
"Has to be, hasn't it...?"   
"I don't believe it..."   
"Why would she be here...?"   
Dumbledore's own blue eyes twinkled. "Students, please allow me to present..." 


	6. The Americans

Barry Potter - Chapter 5   
  
"...my niece, Alden Dumbledore."   
The murmurs rose at the name. Harry leaned over to Ron. "Who's she?"   
Ron sat gazing with rapt attention up at the stage. Harry tapped him on the shoulder, repeating his question. Ron blinked at him in disbelief for a few seconds, then decided that his friend genuinely didn't know. "That's Alden Dumbledore, better known as the Black Menace."   
"Isn't 'Alden' a boy's name?"   
"What's your point?"   
"Forget it. Why's she called the Black Menace?"   
"You mean you've really never heard of her?" Harry shook his head. "She's only the best Quidditch player west of the Atlantic."   
"West of the Atlantic?"   
"Yeah, she plays for America. She's amazing to watch. Been on the International Team as a sub since she was 6, and playing full time since she was 9. But she's British. Her parents were killed by You-Know-Who a few days before he disappeared. Her uncle sent her to America for safety reasons," Ron concluded, with a shake of his head, "But who'd have thought he was her uncle."   
He gestured with his head at Dumbledore, who stood gazing with still sparkling eyes down at his distracted students. Harry frowned.   
"Why'd he ship a Quidditch player over from America as a security measure?"   
"Because," answered Hermione breathlessly, "She also happens to be the third most powerful wizard alive today."   
Harry studied Alden critically, taking in her figure, eyes, and attitude. She had crossed her arms over her chest and was leaning her weight onto one foot, indifferent to the small commotion she had triggered. She seemed as indifferent to the attention as Harry wished he could be. His frown grew deeper.   
"She looks pretty average to me."   
"Harry!" Hermione gasped, appalled that he had had the audacity to say such a thing, "Listen to me! She received top marks on her N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s. She has licenses to Apperate and Transfigureate. She's been working with the English & American Ministries of Magic for years now as an Aurorer, refilling about 1/3 of the cells in Azkaban and 1/2 in Nabrazak. Harry, she's 17 years old and she has an Order of Merlin!"   
Harry gulped, swinging his eyes with new respect toward the stage. He shuddered as his eyes met Alden's. He waited for the familiar flick to his scar, but it never came. The two-tone eyes scrutinized him carefully, then flickered on as though they had never stopped on Harry. There was something about her easy grace, her flashing eyes, and the way they glimmered as they passed over the students. Harry couldn't tell what the feeling was, but he didn't like it. He felt a sense of foreboding, a feeling of dread at the pit of his stomach. He watched a small smile play over her lips, and suddenly he recognized the feeling radiating from this awesome being: it was an overwhelming sense of doom.   
Dumbledore waited until his audience had drifted into a somewhat dazed silence. With a smile, he began again. "During the day, Alden will be in and among all of you. However, due to a shortage of space, she will be sorted into a house. She will only remain exclusively with this house at night. She will in no other way have a preference to this house, so rest assured that you will all be protected equally. Dear, if you would please step up to the hat..."   
Alden strode silently forward. All eyes were on her as she sat, lifting the hat and placing it calmly on her head. There was a barely audible intake of breath as the other students waited.   
There was a long pause.   
Someone coughed.   
Another, longer pause. Then finally,   
"GRYFFINDOR..."   
There was a hint of the old Hogwarts spirit in Gryffindor's applause to this. Alden set the hat down again, but instead of heading for her new table she leaned over the staff table, whispering to her uncle. Dumbledore's bright eyes twinkled as he nodded. He gestured to Snape, who slowly slouched over to them as if dreading what he seemed to know was coming. The three spoke in undertones, Snape's face livid with disgust. Soon he sighed, and, nodding, swept silently off to the Great Hall doors. Alden's eyes followed him triumphantly. He opened one of the doors and beckoned in those on the other side. A young woman entered.   
Her long blonde hair swayed gently as her blue eyes swept over the room. On the tallish side, her presence was almost as commanding as those on the stage. She exchanged friendly smiles with Alden, and took a few steps into the room. Harry gasped. Her floating movement, combined with her hair, eyes, and pale skin made her look a bit like a Veela. She paused, turning toward the door. She reached out a long pale hand and pulled another young woman into the Hall.   
The second had darting golden eyes that tried to take in the whole room at once. Jet-black hair brushed the back of her neck as she glanced over her shoulder. The blonde took a firmer grip on her hand and began steering her toward the stage, whispering. Snape snapped the doors shut, following the girls sullenly. They reached the stage quickly. Alden smiled again, hugging both girls in turn. Dumbledore yet again began again.   
"Dear students, it appears to me that I was mistaken. We shall be honored by 3 guests this year, not one. I am pleased to present Kayla and Silvia Moone. My dears, the hat..."   
There was a smaller, less excited murmur at these names. Harry glanced at Ron, looking for some explanation.   
"Americans," Ron muttered to Harry, "Horace Moone's kids. He was the American Minister of Magic for a few years before he disappeared. That one's Kayla. She works for the Ministry, I forget which department." He gestured up at the blonde, who was lowering the hat onto her head. As they waited, Ron added, "The other one's Silvia. She's on the radio all the time, got a beautiful voice. Mum says she sings like a lark, whatever that means. She tried to get into the Ministry a bit of a while ago, but it didn't work out."   
"How come you know so much about them?"   
"How come people know so much about you?"   
"I'm famous."   
"They're Horace Moone's kids. They are too."   
"RAVENCLAW!"   
Kayla smiled as Ravenclaw applauded. She gracefully took the hat off and handed it to her sister. Silvia placed the cap on her straight black hair, and it cried out almost immediately,   
"RAVENCLAW!"   
There was more applause as Silvia sighed with apparent relief. She slipped out of the hat and gently placed it on the stool. Her hand sought Kayla's. The older girl smiled sadly at her little sister, gripping her skinny hand tightly in her own. Silvia glanced around the room again, appearing 7 rather than 17. Alden placed a gentle hand on her back, and Silvia seemed visibly calmed. The two Moones walked to the Ravenclaw table, talking to each other in low undertones. As they sat a few girls edged toward them, and they stopped whispering. Alden said a few more words to her uncle, then walked slowly down to the Gryffindor table.   
"Come-on," Harry heard Ron hiss, "Sit here, sit here..." He had moved over enough to leave half an empty seat between himself and Harry. Instead, to all of their surprise, Alden swung herself into the seat directly across from them. She smiled, her eyes darting once up and down the table before settling on Ron.   
"So you're the Weasly's younger brother?"   
"Wha- what?" Ron managed to stammer.   
"You're Fred and George's younger brother, aren't you?"   
"Well, um, yeah. How'd you know?"   
"Oh, come off it. They never told you they knew me?"   
"No... How did they know you?"   
"I visited the school during their first year. We were all Quidditch fans, so it was a quick match. Do they still make joke shop things?"   
"Yeah, yeah, they're still thinking of opening a joke shop one day."   
"Say, have they ever made Canary Creams?"   
"Sure, quite a hit at Hogwarts and around Hogsmeade."   
Alden laughed, a clear robust sound that seemed to sweep over the friends, making them all feel a bit giggly themselves. Her eyes sparkled as she explained, "That was one of my ideas. I've got to get them to send me some."   
She flashed Ron a smaller, private smile, then her eyes danced on to Hermione. "You must be Hermione Granger."   
"Ye-yes!" Hermione gasped. She seemed overwhelmed by the other girl, whose bright eyes searched her stunned face briefly.   
"You're the one who won the Scholastic to W University, right?"   
"Yes," Hermione seemed to have found her voice now, "And I must say that it is quite, quite an honor to meet you. I have never, ever i-"   
Alden held up her hand, shaking her head with a grin. "No, no, pleasure's all mine. My uncle and the teachers talk about you all the time over the summer."   
She lowered her voice, leaning toward Hermione. "To tell you the truth, you all ways sounded a bit hopelessly in love with books to me. But then," she added with a wink, raising her voice back up, "Who am I to talk?"   
Alden turned her gaze now at Dean, who seemed caught between being sad, admiring Alden, and trying to get a glimpse of the Moones over her shoulder. Her grin drew into a broad smile. "You're Dean Thomas."   
Dean jumped at hearing his name. He had been temporarily transfixed as he gazed across the room at the Moone sisters, who were laughing quietly with their new friends. He tilted his head, looking inquisitively at Alden's secret smile.   
"I knew it had to be you," she explained, still smiling. "I remember when Silvia got your first fan letter. It was so sweet. How did it start? Oh! It was 'Dear Silvia, the Grea-"   
"Yeah, yeah, I remember that one!" Dean blushed furiously while Alden bit her lip, holding in her laughter.   
"Silvia's always liked getting letters from you, Dean." she added with a mischievous grin. She glanced over her shoulder, then said, "You know, if you'd like to meet them..."   
She stifled a chuckle. Dean glanced once more over her shoulder before catching Alden's eye. He blushed an even deepened color, hiding his face in his arms. Hermione as well seemed to be nearly choking with the desire to burst out laughing. Ron patted Dean on the back, biting his lip as well.   
Harry alone remained unaffected. His bright green eyes had not left Alden's own shining ones since she had sat down. There was something about those eyes... They looked familiar, but wrong. Harry frowned again. He had gotten into the habit of frowning a lot since Hermione had once told him, in a burst of sheer intimacy, that frowning made him look "sexy". He closed his eyes for a second, trying to picture her eyes in some different context. Faces flashed through his mind, all with Alden's colorful eyes. They looked fine on Dumbledore, but then he was her uncle. They looked somewhat correct on Snape, Harry would ask about that. Then he gulped. They matched exactly the pale, snake-like eyes of Tom Riddle.   
He opened his eyes and for one wild second thought that Voldemort was in front of him. He blinked, and with a sigh of relief saw that it was only Alden who sat before him. Her eyes were cutting sharply into his own. He shuddered again, realizing that in some ways he wished it had been Voldemort before him.   
Her voice, softer and a tad icier, broke through his thoughts. "So you must be Harry Potter."   
Despite the situation, Harry smirked. "How'd you figure that out?"   
"Process of elimination."   
Harry's smirk faded. The sincerity of the girl's voice had brought his ego down with a sharp thud. His eyes blazed a little angrily at her, but his fire was quickly extinguished by her icy gaze. Harry felt a twinge in his scar as Alden peered deeper into his eyes. He felt as though as cold, black hand had reached into his head and was gently groping around for something. The feeling was so chilling that he felt the need to break eye contact, but something hidden inside him wouldn't let him. 'Turn away, turn away!' he yelled at himself, struggling to avert his eyes or at least close them. Two bright lights glowed in front of him. One was green, the other purple. Then suddenly they were brown, a pale yet muddy brown, then they were yellow, then red... snake-like and red...   
"Harry?"   
He blinked. Everyone was looking at him. Alden said again, "Harry?"   
"Huh?"   
"What did you just say?"   
Harry thought. He hadn't just said anything, had he? He gulped, hoping he hadn't said anything he would regret. "Er... nothing, nothing at all."   
Alden's eyes narrowed slightly. "No really, what did you just say? It sounded like you were asking me a question, but I couldn't quite hear..." Her eyes grew wide and friendly again as she added playfully, "Don't worry, there isn't much you can ask that I can't tell you the answer to."   
Harry cast around for a good question, but all he could think about were those eyes that were now looking at him. They seemed quite harmless now, really. A bit emboldened by the change in Alden's eyes, Harry decided to ask, "Are you related to Snape?"   
"Yes."   
"What?!" all the friends gasped. Alden raised an eyebrow.   
"What's wrong with that?"   
"Snape... well, he's Snape, but you... you're... you aren't..." Ron stammered, expressing Harry, Dean, and Hermione's own astonishment as well.   
Alden's grin returned. "I get it. You hate him, but I seem nice enough." They all nodded. "Snape's my cousin by marriage. My other uncle's wife was his aunt. So I'm not directly related to him," her smile flashed larger for a moment, "Don't worry."   
'God', Harry thought, 'Is there anything she isn't?'   
"What happened to your eyes?" he asked aloud.   
Alden was silent for a moment. The eyes in question were cast down on the table, thoughtful. They suddenly flashed with anger, but in the same second they grew sad and melancholy. Then she look up at Harry, eyes neutral once again. In a calm voice she said simply, "Curse scar."   
Harry started. Then his famous ego kicked in. 'How original,' he thought, 'Parents killed by Voldemort, so-called curse scar, powerful wizard, damn good looking... she's trying to steal my life. What's she ever done that I haven't done? Okay, so she has an Order of Merlin and stuff, but I'm sure I deserve it all too.'   
He searched Alden's face for some sign of jealousy or falsehood that would betray the fact that she was only parroting his life story with some embellishments. Her lovely face, however, was quiet, thoughtful and sad. In the corner of her green eye Harry thought he saw a tear, but she blinked a few times and it was gone. Harry glanced over his friends to gage their reaction. They all looked quiet as well, contemplating her words or perhaps his own. Hermione broke the silence, saying softly, "You'll have to forgive him. He hasn't read much about the Americas or modern history at all. He couldn't have known..."   
Ron and Dean nodded, muttering hushed apologies. Harry quite suddenly felt another sinking feeling. Only this time, it wasn't of dread or terror: it was of pure, pure shame.   
Then he realized that he couldn't have known, like Hermione said, thus he needn't feel any shame in not knowing. Plus, he remembered, he was Harry Potter. He gazed inquisitively at Alden, feigning the complete innocence to the wizarding world he had had before Hogwarts. Her eyes looked again into his, and with a sigh she began,   
"Yes, it's much like your story. You wouldn't know it but sadly many are. Children who wake up to find their parents murdered, gone forever in the blink of an eye. Or worse, those forced to watch it. My father... by the time I was born my father had left. My mother had my half-brother by her first marriage to deal with, and she couldn't cope with keeping me as well. So she went to find my father, bringing me and Toby with her. I can't remember all to much of my early days, but I can still remember Toby's face. He was my half-brother, and in so many ways my guardian angel. He made sure I was fed every day, he kept me warm in the streets at night. My mother was a good woman, but she had nothing, just the two of us and her Hogwarts education. When... when she found my father's house, he was out for the day. But the servants knew my mother, they let her in to wait. Toby was so happy, all he could think about was how warm and good and happy things would be once we had a father again. His own father had been put to death on the charge of being a Death-Eater, so he couldn't wait to start again..."   
She blinked hard a few times, and Harry was sure that the glisten in her eye was tears long unshed. As she continued, the only hint of her true feelings was an almost imperceptible quaver in her voice. "Then the master of the house came home. He brought with him an evil wrath, a feeling of hatred toward my mother. Toby hide with me in the other room, but at nights I can sometimes still hear her pathetic voice as she pled with him. Not for herself, but for us, her children. He spat on her, yelling, cursing her name. Then Voldemort overtook my father, destroying him, and killed my mother. He came into our room, full of unstoppable wrath. This much I remember clear as day. He raised his wand at us. Toby gently kissed my forehead, then pulled my in among his huge robes. Then... then Voldemort killed him. All I have left of him is this discolored eye as a scar where the curse just missed me as it killed him."   
There was a deep silence, so deep that even chat at other tables seemed to die away. Harry stared at the table, ears ringing with the soft sad sound of Alden's voice. His breath came out in a little sigh, a sigh which seemed to echo through the still Great Hall. Dumbledore rose silently up, glancing at his niece's bowed head. He cleared his throat, an eruption of noise that made half the students start.   
"Well, my students, as there are no other announcements to make, you are all free to go. Goodnight, I'll see you all bright and early tomorrow."   
Students all over the Great Hall rose. As the slowly filed out of the doors, Ron frowned.   
"I feel like we forgot something."   
Hermione glanced over her shoulder. "Well, we've left Alden behind."   
Harry, Ron, and Dean turned as well. Alden was still sitting at the table, only now she was resting her head on her hands, staring blankly at the wall. Ron took a step toward her, but Hermione gently grabbed his shoulder. "No," she said softly, "Let her be."   
"Do you expect me to just leave her like that? What if she's contemplating suicide?"   
"Um, I don't think she is, but look," Hermione gestured at her with her free hand. "Her friends are going to take care of her."   
Indeed, the Moone sisters had come up behind Alden. Now Silvia reached out a thin, warm hand and placed it gently on Alden's back, sliding into the seat next to her. Kayla slipped into the other seat, whispering something to her friend. Ron reluctantly turned, and they all trooped back up to Gryffindor Tower. The boys said goodnight to Hermione and to a yawning Ginny who scampered up to her dormitory, blissfully unaware of the reflections of the others. As they crawled into bed, Harry called over to Ron.   
"Odd, though, isn't she?"   
"Hmm?"   
"I mean, she just seems too perfect for her own good."   
"Who, Alden?"   
"Yeah, who else?"   
"Dunno..."   
"Well?"   
"Well what?"   
"Don't you think it's odd how perfect she is?"   
"No." Ron yawned loudly, ending the conversation. Harry rolled over, turning over his thoughts in the warm privacy of his bed. There was so much he wanted to think about, but his head was spinning, and he was tired... so tired...   
In the next bed over Ron yelped and sat up with a start. Dean and Harry turned to face him, eyes filled with terror. "What, what's wrong?"   
"I've just remembered what we forgot at the Great Hall!"   
"What?" Harry begged, desperate for a clue to chew over during the night.   
"We forgot to have dinner. Cor, and I'm bloody hunge-"   
Ron never finished his sentence as pillows flew at him from both of the other boys, hitting the back of his head and mouth with vicious accuracy for 10 o'clock at night. 


	7. Echos of the Past

Barry Potter - Chapter 6   
  
Draco was following a girl. He wanted to tell her something, so he hastened to catch up with her. But the more he hurried, the farther ahead she drew. He dodged past other students, trying in vain to catch up with her. He lost sight of her as she turned a corner. With a burst of speed he rounded it as well. This hallway was empty, and the girl was close. Draco started to sprint toward her, but suddenly he froze. He lunged frantically in every direction, trying to break free of whatever held him, but he couldn't. A dark figure was massing before him, hiding the girl's retreating back. Draco snarled as the blackness took a shape: his father's. His father laughed mirthlessly, and stretched out a long, white hand toward Draco's golden hair. Suddenly, Draco couldn't take it any more.   
"NO!!" he screamed, breaking the spell. His father paused, startled by the outbreak. Filled again with power and hatred, Draco whipped out his wand, shouting out words he didn't know or understand. His father shrieked, then fell to the floor, stone dead. Triumphantly, Draco rushed toward the girl, crying out her name. She turned and, seeing him, smiled broadly. He threw himself into her arms, sobbing. She gently kissed his hair as they clung to each other.   
"I did it... I'm free..." Draco choked between sobs.   
"I know," she said softly, "And now, I am too..."   
Draco raised his head and looked into her eyes. It was her, it was really her, the girl of his dreams. He remembered the first time he saw her. Naturally, his first instinct had been to throw himself into her open arms, but the opportunity had never presented itself. Not until now. But it didn't matter... they were together now, and nothing would ever, could ever tear them apart again. He drew her in closer, planting a kiss on her quivering lips.   
"Draco, what the bloody hell is wrong with you?"   
Draco Malfoy sat straight up in bed. He blinked. Goyle was staring at him from across the dormitory in what appeared to be disgust. He glanced down, then quickly released the blanket he had been clutching lovingly to his chest. His eyes flashed dangerously across the room.   
"Well? Why did you wake me up?"   
Goyle cowered a bit under his glare. "Well, um... you see, you were talking in your sleep, and it woke me up. So I sat up in bed and saw you, er, having at your blanket."   
"You must have dreamed it."   
"Oh. Okay."   
"Go to sleep."   
"Right. G'night, Dra-"   
"Now."   
"Right."   
Draco lay back down as well. 'Stupid idiot,' he thought to himself, angrily rolling over. He thought about his dream. 'Oh shit, wonder what I was saying.... Damn that girl! Why'd she have to go and be the One?' Muttering to himself, he slowly fell back asleep.   
  
Harry sat down with a thud at the Gryffindor table. There were two more thuds as Ron and Dean sat down beside him. Hermione looked up at them over her porridge. Dean looked a little happier than he had the night before. He seemed to be settling into his new life without Seamus at Hogwarts quite well. Ron looked sleepy, his red hair tousled and falling over his forehead and ears. Hermione wasn't sure that he had ever been visibly affected by the Massacre, not even the day it had happened. Harry, however, looked dark and stormy. His gaunt face and the dark circles under his eyes made him appear haggard and agitated. Indeed, he hadn't slept that night. Hermione searched his face for a sign, eyes full of concern. Just then Alden sat down quietly beside her. The flash from Harry's eyes was all Hermione needed: he had been thinking about the new girl.   
For just a moment, Hermione felt a pang of jealousy. She had been thinking about Harry all night, dreaming about him. It was so odd; ever since she had last left Krum, she had not stopped thinking about Harry. Deep in the pit of her stomach, Hermione felt guilty. She remembered their fourth year, when they had held the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts. She shuddered, remembering Cedric's pale face with it's fixed look of terror and surprise. But that wasn't why she had remembered it the night before. What had struck her had been an article Rita Skeeter had written. It had portrayed her as a 'scarlet woman', she remembered Ron coining it. The article had talked about her toying with Krum and Harry's affections, and now it seemed that she was. Hermione reflected on the jealousy she had just felt. It didn't matter, she decided, if Harry spent the night thinking about Alden and not her. What was more important was that she didn't find herself drifting into the love triangle Skeeter had so innocently hit upon three years ago.   
The others had just started eating when they heard the rustle of hundreds of wings. Owls came whooshing in, circling around before gliding down to the students. Harry scanned the air for Hedwig, but there were no white owls to be seen. There was another bird, however, that caught everyone's eyes. A small brown hawk was zooming in and among the owls, apparently having the time of its life. The owls seemed to find the little bird annoying, nipping at it as it swooped by them like a bullet. Harry heard a tinkling laugh and a sharp whistle. He turned his head as he watched the hawk dive toward its master, surprised that it was heading toward Gryffindor. It stopped abruptly about a foot over their heads, gently circling before settling on Alden's outstretched arm. She gently stroked the bird's feathery head as the rest of the room stared at her blankly. She didn't seem to notice, gently pulling a letter off its leg and shifting it softly onto her shoulder. Unfolding the letter, she sat silently pouring over it while the falcon gnawed on her hair and took a sip from her goblet.   
The room soon slipped back into its usual buzz. A large barn owl landed before Hermione, presenting her with a copy of The Daily Prophet. She took it, thanking the owl with a crust of the toast she had just started. Unfurling the paper, she spat out the water she had just sipped.   
"What is it now?" Harry asked sullenly. He was sure it had something to do with him. Or maybe Hogwarts.   
"Listen to this." Hermione cleared her throat and read:   
"This year, despite protests from wizards nation wide, the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has once again opened its doors. The notorious Headmaster Dumbledore informed the press last week that he believes that the students are just as safe at school as they would be at home. In fact, studies have repeatedly shown that one of the safest places in the world is within the school's enchanted boundaries. But this has not helped to strengthen the confidence of many parents who refuse to send their children back to school.   
Most parents blame this mistrust of the school's security on the unfortunate incident last year now referred to as the 'Hogwarts Massacre'. One parent explains this fear, saying, 'I don't feel any safer sending my children their now then I did the year after You-Know-Who arouse again. I don't care if they say they've put the person suspected of the killings into Azkaban. For all I know, the real culprit is still abroad. My son has friends who were murdered. As a parent, I don't see how I can let him go back.'   
As readers may remember, the convicted student Miss Parkinson was sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban for the murder of nearly half of the first and second year students, in addition to some upper classmen, visiting alumni, and two faculty members. Though she pleaded guilty, many parents say they still believe that her conviction was a cover-up for another student at the school who would no doubt return to finish the job they started last year. When asked who they thought the guilty party was, the answers were everywhere from no idea to Harry Potter himself."   
Hermione put down the paper, catching Harry's eyes. Harry was sitting in a shocked silence, hardly able to breathe or move. After all he had been through, all he had suffered after the attacks, it was impossible to conceive that anyone could accuse him of being connected with it. Ron gently patted him on the back while Dean mumbled something. Hermione simply gazed into his eyes sympathetically. Harry remembered crying for weeks, moving from Hermione's shoulder to Ron's every other day. He had often thought about it, and realized how lucky he and Dean were to have such good friends. He could still feel Hermione's soft tears trickling down onto his hair as she sat on the couch with him, letting him bawl, never saying a word. He could still see Ron sitting on the other couch, arm protectively around Dean. During the whole year and summer, Harry had never seen Ron cry. He had often wondered about it, but now he had come to accept it as Ron's natural tendency not to show emotion.   
There was a rustle of cloak, and the silence was interrupted as Kayla and Silvia Moone slid noisily into seats. Alden looked up from her letter, wiping a tear from her eye. Kayla opened her own copy of the Prophet, folding it and throwing it gently across the table at her. Alden put down her letter, gave a small scrap of bacon to the hawk, and picked up the paper. The little bird snatched up the meat, hopping off of her shoulder and tearing it into bite-sized shreds. Silvia took tossed another piece of bacon to the bird, who bristled its feathers happily and began to gobble it up as well. Alden finished reading the story and looked up at the sisters. "So?"   
"We just wanted to point out that they misspelled the name." Kayla said quietly, sitting quite still. Alden's eyes flickered back to the paper, and she glanced over the article again. She paused over a sentence, rereading it. She suddenly sucked in her breath sharply. Her eyes flashed as she tightened her grip on the paper. Instantly, Silvia's thin hand had shot out and curled around Alden's shaking one. Alden took a deep breath, calming herself. She looked up at her American friends, asking quietly,   
"Why didn't you tell me?"   
"Oh, that would've been a lovely way of going about it!" Kayla snapped, as angry about the article as Alden was.   
"You should have told me something!"   
"Why? Would you have helped?"   
"Of course! What the bloody hell are friends for?"   
"Alden," Silvia replied softly, "You couldn't have done anything. Let it go. You know now."   
"I could have done something if you hadn't hidden this from me." Alden countered coolly, tossing the paper onto the table. Harry turned his head, trying to read the headline. With a sigh, Silvia let her friend's hand go and stood. Kayla rose as well, trying to keep her composure. All three of the girls were obviously having trouble containing their emotions. Kayla looked like she wanted to scream, Silvia looked like she wanted to cry, and Alden, alarmingly, looked like she wanted to kill someone. Harry gulped as he saw Alden's hand go to the pocket her wand was protruding from. The look in her eyes made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Beside him, he felt Dean shudder. The four friends silently breathed a sigh of relief when Alden drew out a piece of paper, leaving her wand untouched. She folded it, then threw it to Kayla. Kayla caught it, looking curiously at her. Alden closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she was much calmer.   
"Send that back to America for me. Pharaon is tired."   
Kayla examined the paper. "Who should I send it to?"   
"The Minister."   
Kayla and Silvia gasped. "You had it?" Silvia asked.   
"Yes, now send it off." Alden put her head heavily in her hands. The sisters muttered thanks and slipped off to the Ravenclaw table. Dean alone watched them go. Harry and Ron were looking at Alden, whose eyes were closed again. Hermione was looking at the paper.   
The hawk, having finished its bacon, fluttered back over to Alden, settling once again on her shoulder. She opened her eyes, turning her head to look at the bird. "Now what, Pharaon?" she asked softly. Pharaon blinked, gazing intently back into Alden's sad eyes. Alden looked back around at the others. "Has anyone got some parchment or a quill?"   
"I've got one." Ron rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a quill. He handed it to Alden, who tore a corner off Kayla's newspaper, scribbling a note on it. She rolled it up, tied it to Pharaon's leg, and shifted the little bird to her arm. With a whisper from Alden and a rustle of wings, the hawk leapt gracefully into the air, soaring out of the room with the last of the owls, who hooted indignantly at the stranger in their midst.   
"I thought the hawk was tired." Harry said, eyes locked on Alden's. She gazed evenly back.   
"She's too tired to make it back to America again."   
"Then where's she going?"   
"None of your bloody business."   
"Oh really?"   
"Yeah really."   
Harry turned away, sullen again. Hermione had finished the article, and turned now to look up at Alden. "I don't get it."   
"Don't get what?" Alden averted her eyes as well, now looking toward Hermione.   
"What's this story got to do with you?"   
"Me personally? Nothing."   
"Then why's it important?"   
"If I told you that, I'd have to kill you."   
"Oh, come off it..." Harry muttered angrily. Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn't ask any more questions. Harry picked up the paper. He glanced over the brief article, Ron and Dean reading over his shoulder.   
"In international news, yet another crime spree has broken lose in America. The highlights so far include the raiding of the American Ministry's Department of International Affairs and the murder of the Department's head, Terrace Doogle. In a riot led by Death Eaters, a young woman allegedly slipped in disguised as a Ministry security agent and murdered Doogle in the chaos. The suspected woman, Miss Mon, has reportedly fled the country with her sister. Sources say that she was heading for England. There has been a heightened level of security in patrolling Britain's borders, but Ministry officials in both countries are worried that the young women will be able to slip through Muggle security. The American Ministry also reports regret that Miss Mon's sister has fled with her. The elder of the Mon sisters was a loyal and dedicated Ministry official. The Minister has announced that he will fully pardon her if she returns to the country. If any information is found about either of the Mons, please contact the nearest Ministry office. The suspect and her sister of average height, with black hair and pale blue eyes. Please be on the look out."   
"Creepy..." Dean breathed, shuddering. Harry and Ron nodded. Something about it was creepy, though they weren't sure why. Perhaps it was just the idea that things like that were happening worldwide. Perhaps it was because at that moment, they were in the same room as three Americans, and the most dangerous one was sitting across from them.   
As they slowly filed to class, Harry looked around for Alden. She was, as Dumbledore had promised, in and among the students. Harry had trouble keeping an eye on her. Every time he saw her she vanished, reappearing a few students away. Harry shook his head, giving up. Then a soft voice said in his ear, "All's fine, then?"   
Harry jumped, looking over his shoulder. Alden had appeared between him and Ron, smiling at them. They both nodded, and with a smile she was gone. Ron tried to follow her away with his eyes, but was forced to turn around again as they trudged down into the basement for Potions. Harry studied his friend's freckled face. A smile was playing over Ron's lips and sparkling in his eyes. Harry felt a tiny smile spread on his own face at his friend's happiness. For a moment, he felt as safe and happy as he had his first year. Silently, he thanked Dumbledore for bringing his niece to Hogwarts for the year. He strode into the dungeon classroom, giddy with simple joy, ready for anything. Well, anything but a welcome back to school quiz. Which they got. 


	8. Echos of the Past Concluded

Barry Potter - Chapter 6 (Concluded)   
  
That night after dinner, they all trooped up to the common room. Harry and Dean were still moaning about the quiz in Potions, Ron was finishing up his last crumpet, and Hermione was out of breath, lugging her heavy schoolbag up the stairs. When they reached the common room, they all collapsed into chairs. "God," Harry muttered, "How've we managed to get up the stairs all these years?"   
"Dunno," Hermione panted back. They were all tired from their first day back, and reluctant to start their homework. Even Hermione was listening to the boys talk, stroking Crookshanks instead of getting out her books. After a while Alden came up, flopping into a chair as well. She had been everywhere all day, constantly poking her head into classes or strolling down a hall. The talk turned from classes to teachers to Quidditch. At this point, as the subject slipped away from her, Hermione pulled out a book and pointedly suggested the others start their work as well. Grumbling, the boys all pulled out parchment and textbooks, settling into their homework. Dean shot a playfully contemptuous look at Alden, who had snuggled down into her chair with a copy of Charmed Chess : The Expert's Guide to Better Chess Strategies.   
"What, no homework?"   
"Nope. No school for me this year..." Alden smiled sweetly. Dean muttered in mock disgust, and would have said something else, but at that moment Hermione threw a pillow at him. They all calmed down and tried again to do their homework. After about an hour, Harry threw down his Transfiguration homework in disgust.   
"I'll never get it!" he complained, glowering at the blank parchment that should have an essay written on it. "It's hopeless."   
"You got that right..." Ron sighed, putting down his quill and stretching. Dean nodded, yawning over his Charms notes.   
Hermione, who had been done for half an hour, looked up from Hogwarts, A History, which she was rereading for the umpteenth time. She snapped the thick volume shut, saying, "What seems to be the problem?"   
"I can't figure out how to write an essay on why Transfiguring a rock into an owl helped wizards during the Dark Ages." Harry explained, scowling. Hermione tutted.   
"Well, it's not that hard... here, I'll help you." She crossed over to the couch, forcing Dean off the end as she settled in beside Harry. They were soon chatting in undertones about the sacristy of owls during the Dark Ages. Dean rolled his eyes as he moved his things over to another chair. He leaned over to Ron, whispering,   
"Hey, do you think either of us could get Hermione's help?"   
"Bet ten Galleons we couldn't."   
"Really?"   
"Sure."   
"You're on. - Hey, 'Mione, will you help me with this?"   
"No, I'm busy." Hermione shot back, eyes fixed on Harry. Dean sighed, pulling some coins out of his pocket. Alden smiled over at them.   
"Do you really need help, Dean?" she asked, looking pointedly at the money as it was exchanged.   
"Well, yeah." Dean grinned sheepishly. Alden put her book aside, stretched, and rose. She walked over to them and leaned on the arms of the chairs Dean and Ron were sitting in.   
"What's wrong?"   
"This problem, number 5: 'If you want to charm a book into flying across a space greater than 15 meters, is it better to use..."   
They all sat in their little groups, musing over homework. At the end of another hour, they were all very tired and very close to being done. Dean yawned loudly, waking Ron and Alden, who had fallen asleep over while pouring over Ron's History textbook. Harry had long finished his Transfiguration essay, and was now working on his Charms homework with Hermione. Alden glanced down at her watch.   
"You guys almost done?" she yawned, leaning against the back of Ron's chair.   
"Very nearly..." Dean sighed, rubbing his eyes before picking up his quill again. They continued on, finishing the last details of essays and charts. With a sigh of deep relief, they all leaned back in their chairs.   
"Welcome back to school..." Alden mumbled, eyes half-closed. Suddenly, they all sat straight up as they heard a sharp tap on the window. Alden was the first to recover her wits, and crossing the room she opened it. In flew Pharaon, looking just as tired as they all felt. The hawk seemed to sigh with relief as it landed on Alden's again outstretched arm. There was a piece of parchment on the leg it held out very lazily. Alden's face fell when she took it off and saw the handwriting on it. The others all watched as she pulled out a saved scrap of bacon, which Pharaon took gently. She stroked the hawk's back as it gulped down the treat, then launched it off, watching it soar up to the owlry.   
She turned back into the room, gently closing the window. Crossing toward the fire, she hastily read the letter. Harry watched as her face grew grey and ashen. A single tear appeared in the corner of her green eye. It slid down her face and landed on the parchment with a splat that could be heard in the silent room. Alden looked up at the others, eyes glancing down at the letter once and then up again. They settled on Hermione, who gulped.   
"Hermione..." she began, voice quiet so as not to betray emotion. Hermione's eyes grew wide as Alden fought to keep composure. Her hand instinctively sought Harry's. He squeezed it gently. The whole room seemed to be holding its breath.   
"Hermione," Alden tried again, her voice a mere whisper, "I believe you knew Viktor Krum, didn't you?"   
Hermione's grip tightened on Harry's hand. "Y-yes..."   
"You were his girlfriend, weren't you?"   
"Yes, I am..."   
"You were." Alden corrected, a twang of pain in her voice. Hermione's eyes grew wider.   
"What do you mean?"   
"I didn't want to upset you this morning, when I got the first letter," Alden explained in a falsely calm voice, "That... that letter was from the leader of the Northern Alliance Army, a dear friend of mine. You knew that Viktor was enlisted, didn't you?"   
Hermione nodded dumbly, so Alden continued. "He was... injured in the fighting. They didn't think it was too serious, they thought they could save him." A second tear dripped down her cheek. "I've seen it all before. I read the letter again and again, hoping I had misread something. But each time it was the same. That note I scribbled at breakfast, it was to my friend, his leader during the attack. I sent Pharaon because he was recognizable and would get to him faster. But by the time they got my letter..."   
Alden stopped. No longer able to speak, no longer able to cry, she silently handed the letter she had just received to Hermione:   
  
"Alden-   
I regret to inform you that your dear friend, Viktor Krum, died before your letter could reach me. I hope it comforts you that I was with him to the very last. Viktor was a great man, an honorable soldier. His passing has caused all of us great sorrow. I am sincerely sorry that you couldn't be with him, for he often called out your name. Please, when you are ready, inform Miss Granger, who he so often mentioned in his days of both living and dying. We ask also that you write to inform his mother of the passing, as for us the grief has struck too near to home to bear. If there is any way I can aid you in easing the pain, do not hesitate to let me know.   
Yhtapmys Tseped-m,   
Jens "   
  
Hermione reread the letter, then burst into convulsive tears. She threw herself into Harry's open arms, sobbing and sobbing into his warm, strong shoulder. Alden, moved far beyond tears, sank into the sofa opposite. Ron quickly crossed over to her, gently pulling her down onto his own shoulder. She shook ever now and then, swallowing the sobs that seemed about to tear her apart, but no longer crying. Dean sat staring into the fire. He had grown quite close to Krum during his visits to Hermione during the end of the year. In the fire, Dean thought he could see himself sitting on the rolling hill behind Hogwarts with Krum and Seamus. They were all laughing and chatting about trivial things, betting who could throw a rock the farthest, wondering why there was a giant squid in the lake, laughing... laughing...   
  
The next morning, Ginny trudged down the stairs. She found Dean asleep before the dying fire, muttering to himself about the giant squid. Next she saw Ron asleep sitting up on the couch. Alden was beside him, head tucked gently between his shoulder and his chin. Last she came upon Harry and Hermione. They were also asleep sitting up, and Harry's arm was draped loosely around Hermione's shoulder. Ginny looked more closely. She saw a letter lying forgotten at Hermione's feet. Picking it up, she scanned it and gasped. She looked around again at the little circle of friends. Deciding not to wake them, she hurried off to find a teacher, letter still clasped in her white hand.   
When the portrait hole swung closed, there was a stir in the common room. Harry raised his head, glancing around the sleepy room. He felt Hermione's warm breath on his shoulder, and with a happy sigh closed his eyes again.   
Alden woke with a start. Ron sighed in his sleep, his head rolling onto his other shoulder. Alden didn't move, pondering for a moment. Then she remembered what had happened the night before. With a shudder she rose, waking Ron with her movement. She looked him in the eye for a moment as he tried to remember why on Earth he had woken up to find her on his shoulder. Then the memory hit him too, and they smiled sadly at each other. Alden crossed silently over to Dean, and with a nudge and a gentle whisper he was awake. Ron hit Harry on the head as he passed by on his way to the dormitory. Dean and Alden followed suit, quietly climbing the stairs to their rooms.   
Harry opened his eyes again. He tenderly patted his head, fancying he felt a swelling from the blow Ron had dealt him. He glanced down at Hermione, still dreaming quietly in his arms. A thrill went through him as she sighed plaintively, tucking her chin more firmly onto his shoulder. It would really be a pity to have to wake her just then...   
Fortunately, Hermione opened her eyes just then. She blinked, wondering why she was sitting on the couch in Harry's arms so early in the morning. She vaguely recollected having gotten a letter, a letter about Krum. What had it said?   
She couldn't remember. Sitting up straight, she gazed once again into Harry's eyes. They sat there for a few moments, simply being together. Then the others started to come back down. They quickly rose and parted to change, hoping that the glances from their friends didn't mean anything.   
When they had all gotten down to breakfast, they found Silvia and Kayla standing again at their table. Alden's face clouded over again as she hurried toward them.   
"What now?" In response, Kayla calmly held out the day's copy of The Daily Prophet. Alden skimmed an article with anxious eyes. She stopped, blinked, and throwing the paper onto the table whispered, "Damn."   
It was more than Silvia could handle. She burst into tears, falling into Dean's open though astonished arms. Alden sat heavily down backwards at the table. She leaned her arms on her knees and rested her head in her hands. Kayla sat beside her, whispering angrily in her ear. Alden nodded dumbly a few times, then rose. Kayla did as well, though her anger was rapidly turning into fear. Alden motioned to Dean, who helped Silvia, still sobbing, to stand. The four of them swept off to the staff table where Dumledore was just sitting down.   
Bewildered, the three remaining friends sat down. Hermione picked up the abandoned paper and read the blurb aloud:   
"We would like to point out a misprint in the international news section of yesterday's paper. In reporting the event, we mistakenly announced that the suspect's name was Mon and gave an inaccurate description. Her name is Moone. The suspect has black hair and golden eyes, while her sister has blonde hair and blue eyes. Please forgive any inconvenience this has caused." 


	9. A Quidditch Match

Barry Potter - Chapter 7   
  
There was, naturally, quite a clamor as more copies of the Daily Prophet were received. Many students, mainly Slytherins, watched and laughed quietly as Silvia was led from the room by Dean and Kayla, Alden and Dumbledore in tow, speaking softly. The Ravenclaw students all chatted together in bewilderment. How could it have been Silvia? She was such a nice girl, never bothered anyone. Silvia? A murderer?   
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. Both shook their heads, as utterly confused as he was. He mused over his porridge, watching the owls flying overhead. One caught his eye. A snowy white owl flew down to him and hooted.   
"Hedwig!" Harry smiled, stroking his companion's soft feathers. She gently nipped his fingers, then held out her leg. Harry took the scrap of parchment. Hedwig took a sip of his porridge and spread her wings. With another hoot, she was gone.   
Harry unrolled the letter and immediately recognized Sirius' handwriting:   
  
Harry-   
How are you, lad? Hedwig managed to find me, clever bird. I can't tell you much, except that Remus and I are both fine. We've been moving around some, staying active. I really can't say much else. No need to send a reply. Hedwig found me once, but where I'm going now, she won't be able to again. I'm glad to hear that the young Dumbledore girl is at your school. It warms my heart, knowing that you're safe. Please, if anything happens this year, lay off the heroics. Times are dangerous and I don't want you getting yourself killed. What would your father say if he found out that I had let his son leap into foolhardy action and get himself killed? And your mother? For god's sake and your parent's sake, keep safe this year. Give my and Remus' regards to Ron and Hermione.   
-Sirius   
  
Harry tossed the letter over to Ron and Hermione. They read it quickly, as concerned for Sirius as Harry was. When Ron was done, he opened his mouth to say something. But at that exact moment a ball of feather hit him in the back of the head.   
"PIG!" Ron grabbed the offending bird and angrily sat it down on the table. But it wasn't Pig, it was Pharaon. The little hawk squawked angrily, nipping Ron's finger. Ron gulped and tossed her some bacon as a sign of peace. Pharaon studied Ron with one beady eye, then turned and studied the bacon. In the end, hunger beat anger, and she gobbled the treat up. Then Pharaon looked around the little group inquisitively.   
"Alden isn't here." Hermione told the bird. Pharaon clicked her beak in understanding and, stealing another piece of Ron's bacon, flew off again. Ron rubbed the back of his head, muttering something about birds and the back of his head.   
As everyone was finishing up, Dumbledore reentered the room. Behind him came Alden and Kayla, talking rapidly in whisper. Then came Dean and Silvia, walking slowly side by side, not saying a word. Harry studied them all critically. Dumbledore looked tired, tired and old. Kayla looked troubled and Alden was smoldering. Yet what struck Harry was Dean and Silvia. Silvia was pale and terrified, cheeks stained with tears. Dean was walking solidly beside her, like some sort of sentinel. But as Harry watched, Dean gently took Silvia's quivering hand in his own strong one. She glanced down at the hands, then up at Dean. He wasn't looking at her, but he squeezed her hand gently. Silvia gave him a small, grateful smile, and they continued walking. Harry grinned sadly.   
Dumbledore mounted the podium while the others sat down at the Ravenclaw table. A few girls came closer, gently patting Silvia and Kayla on the backs, but most of the students edged away a little. Harry glanced back up at the stage, where Dumbledore was getting ready to speak.   
"Students," he said, "I would like to inform you of something I myself have just learned. It seems that the Daily Prophet has printed an article alluding to one of our guests in an unflattering light. However," Dumbledore said sharply, quieting the murmur that had begun, "I have information that this young lady is innocent, a victim of imperfect laws. She is not dangerous, nor has she committed any infamous acts. I ask you, then, to treat her not with hatred and fear but with trust and pity. I'd like to think I have an idea of what Hogwarts students are made of. I believe that you will all do what is right. You are dismissed."   
There was a pause, then the familiar shuffling of robes as books were gathered and students headed off to class. More girls went over to Silvia, speaking in soft soothing voices. She arose, surrounded by a thick barrier of kindness. Kayla smiled, putting her hand gently on her sister's back as the group began to move toward the door. Dean started to follow, but felt a hand grip his shoulder. It was Alden's. With a quick, sad smile, she led him over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.   
"She'll be fine. Don't worry." Alden smiled again, squeezed Dean's shoulder, and with a nod to the others disappeared. The friends looked at each other before starting off to class. Each wanted to think.   
  
After the news of Viktor's death and Silvia's framing, the weeks slipped by without event. During the days, they all put on brave faces and talked and laughed with the other students. Because Alden was always off taking care of school security, the little group began spending time with the Moone sisters. Harry noticed that Dean seemed happiest when he was around them. In fact, the girls were like a soothing medicine to all of them, keeping them up despite the troubles of their own.   
One of the best distractions, Harry found, was Quidditch. He had always loved flying, but now it felt even better. He loved being able to fly up into the air, soaring above his troubles into a cool sky of blue or grey. Many had been worried that Quidditch would be canceled, Harry and Ron included. Their hearts had leapt with joy when they learned there would be games starting the second month of the term. The first game scheduled was Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff, so Harry, Ron, and the rest of the team headed down to the pitch almost every day. No one cared whether it was Quidditch season or not: everyone felt better with a game to look forward to.   
The highlight of the practices was one cold, dreary day toward the end of the month. Shivering, the Gryffindor team had trudged out to the pitch. Standing in the middle, grinning broadly, was Alden. She held a broomstick at her side, and waved when she saw them coming. Harry, the team captain since Fred had left, strode out to meet her. As he approached, he heard her singing softly to herself, "Redrum, erif, gniyd, gnireffus..."   
"What are you doing here?" he asked, half glaring at her in suspicion. He still didn't trust her entirely.   
"Uncle gave me the afternoon off," Alden explained, eyes sparkling, "So I decided to come and watch practice. I hear you're the best."   
"We are!" Ron put in, shifting the weight of his broomstick off of his shoulder. Alden looked over the team with an experienced eye.   
She frowned. "How can you? You haven't got any girls."   
"We don't need any girls!" piped up Terry Wrigg, the small second year who played Beater. Alden raised her eyebrow. Terry gulped as she glanced at him, and shuddered from more than just the cold.   
"We'll see about that." Alden replied simply. Harry shuddered as he watched, just for a second, an evil grin cross her face. It reminded him of the twins' smiles, but also, a bit, of Voldemort's.   
"I challenge the Gryffindor team to a match," she said, "You 7 against me."   
Harry laughed. "Come off it!"   
"Really."   
Harry stopped laughing. "You don't stand a chance. We're the best."   
"We'll see..." Alden grinned again, picking up a spare Beater's club, mounted her broom, and pushed off into the air. She circled them tauntingly, yelling down, "Well? Are you afraid?"   
"That's it!" Harry snapped, leaping onto his broomstick. He shot up after her, the rest of the team following suit. Ron carried with him a Bludger, Terry brought the other, and Dean clutched the tiny Snitch and the Quaffle. Alden was smiling, her eyes bright as they danced over the Gryffindor team. Harry took the Quaffle and tossed it to her. "Here. You start with it."   
Alden tossed it back, shaking her head. "I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair."   
"Go on," Harry threw it back, "Ladies first."   
She shrugged her shoulders, simply saying, "You asked for it."   
The Chasers got into formation before Alden while Dean swept over to the goal post. Ron and Terry rose up above them, feeling for firmer grips on their clubs. Harry paused at Ron's side, saying, "10 Galleons says she only has it for 5 seconds tops."   
Ron shook his head. "I dunno, Harry. I'd say 10 Galleons says our Chasers don't see the Quaffle again until she makes a goal."   
Harry laughed. "You're on!" Then he urged his broom up. He slowly circled, watching the game as it began below when the Snitch and Bludgers were released. His lips curved up in a confident. This would be an easy game to win. Granite Hohensea, Michael Drud, and James Hingle, the team's Chasers, were undefeatable. Ron and Terry were almost as good as the twins had been, and Dean surpassed Oliver Wood. And, Harry noted smugly, he always caught the Snitch. Always.   
Then his jaw dropped.   
Alden swept right through the Chasers, blowing the stunned Beaters out of the way. They all shot after her, but it was a fruitless endeavor. She aimed her broom straight at Dean's. He faced her, unflinching. Harry gulped. She was going to crash into him.   
At the last possible moment, she dropped her broom a fraction of a centimeter and swung down. Flying upside-down, her broomstick and legs just grazed Dean. She swung lightly up again and threw the Quaffle into the goal. With a laugh, she tossed it to a stunned Michael. Eyes still twinkling, she called, "Ten to zero, Gryffindor ball."   
Harry watched the Chasers swing into action. They had made it half way down the field when Alden stripped them of the Quaffle and went barreling back toward the Gryffindor goal. Ron hit a Bludger at her, hurling it with all the force he could muster. Glancing back, Alden saw it. Spinning around to face it, she hit it back toward the frantic Chasers before turning to zoom on toward the goal. The Keeper flew back and forth, uncertain of what to do. Alden suddenly shot straight up in the air and threw the Quaffle over Dean's head. He stretched up to catch it in vain. Alden again tossed the ball back to the Chasers, calling, "Twenty to zero, Gryffindor ball."   
Harry scowled down as Alden continued to pummel his team single-handedly. Yet he felt a deep sense of calm watching her. Alden and her broomstick were like one being, a great bird of pray swooping among robed figures on brooms. She moved gracefully, twisting and turning as though underwater. This, Harry decided, was her element. She belonged on a broom, soaring through the skies. Deep inside, he again felt happy that she was there. Then he saw the Snitch. It was glimmering right before the opposite goal post.   
He urged his broom forward. Suddenly, he heard a whoosh, and saw Alden streaking past him, Quaffle still firmly under her arm and the rest of the team in tow. Enraged, Harry pushed his broom, willing it to go faster. He almost drew even with her and stretched his arm out. She tried to pull ahead more, but Harry wouldn't let her. She stretched her own arm out, leaning over the end of her broom stick as they sped toward the glittering ball of gold. Harry stretched his fingers out further, imagining the feel of the Snitch in his fingers. He saw it, it was right there, just beyond his grasp, in a moment...   
It was gone. Harry blinked, then swerved sharply to stop himself from running headlong into the goal. He turned around and saw Alden clutching the Snitch triumphantly above her head. The rest of the team was laughing, enjoying themselves as they slowly sunk down toward the ground. Angrily, Harry swooped down as well. They packed up the balls and clubs, still laughing. Harry kicked a clod of dirt moodily. He had lost. Life was so unfair.   
Everyone shook Alden's hand, admitting honorable defeat. She was a gracious winner, pointing out everyone else's strong points and small victories during the game. Last she shook Harry's hand. He stumbled over what to say, finally coming up with, "You're pretty good."   
Alden winked. "Three years in the World Cup can do that to you."   
Harry froze. "You've played at the World Cup?"   
"Yeah, where were you the last three year?" Alden asked, rolling her eyes. "Didn't you notice the short one on the American team?"   
Harry blushed and, grabbing his broom, stormed up to the castle. The rest of the team followed, chatting. Harry didn't seem to notice them as he marched up to the Tower, deposited his things in the dormitory, and sunk onto a couch in the common room, fuming. Hermione put a hand gently on Harry's arm. "Tough practice?"   
Harry scowled. "Yeah. We played Alden."   
"What do you mean?"   
"He means," Ron said as the rest of the team trudged into the room, "That we played against Alden and she creamed us."   
"It was brilliant!" Dean said, all smiles. Alden shrugged the compliment off and they all walked off to get changed. Harry glared at Alden's back as she mounted the stairs. Hermione's hand found his and gave it a little squeeze. He looked down at it. It was soft and fragile, very small and warm in his hands. He then looked up into Hermione's eyes. She was smiling at him, a playful grin in her eyes. Suddenly, Harry found himself overwhelmed with emotion. He leaned forward, putting a hand on her arm. Her breath came in sharply as she froze, unsure of what to do. Harry leaned forward further, moving his hand to her cheek. Slowly, they both leaned closer... closer...   
"Hey, Hermione!"   
They both jumped into the air, flying to opposite end of the couch. Hermione turned toward the voice. Alden had just clunked down the stairs, holding a few robes over her arm. Her face was friendly and innocent: she hadn't seen them.   
"Hermione, I'm going to bring these down to the laundry room. Want me to bring yours as well?"   
"Um, yeah, sure. Thanks!" Hermione replied quickly. Alden nodded and climbed the stairs again, humming to herself the song she had been singing at the Quidditch pitch. Harry furrowed his brow when he heard it.   
"Hermione, have you ever heard that tune before?" Hermione shook her head, still a bit flushed. She rose, eyes turned away from Harry.   
"I'll... I'll see you at dinner..." she said quietly. Casting one swift glance at Harry, she hurried up the stairs. Harry sat, gazing into the fire. What was getting into him?   
  
Far away, in the dungeons of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy sat huddled on the floor before a formidable figure. He clutched his arm, which was limp and pale at his side. Blood trickled down the side of his face as he trembled, managing to whisper, "For-... Forgive me, my lord. I will not fail you this time."   
"If you do," the figure said softly, "You'll get off worse than ever before." With a rustle, it disappeared. Draco sighed with relief, leaning his back against the cold stone wall. Gingerly, he moved his arm a bit, wincing in pain. He gently lifted himself from the floor and with slow, fumbling steps headed toward the Slytherin common room. 


	10. Tasks again?

Barry Potter - Chapter 8   
  
Harry groaned as he slid into his seat. Gryffindor had Potions then Defense Against the Dark Arts with Snape first thing. Two hours in the dungeons with Slytherin was never fun.   
Hermione sat next to Harry while Ron and Dean grabbed seats across the aisle. They weren't happy about the class either. Students trudged into the basement, grumbling and yawning. With a sigh, Harry closed his eyes and leaned forward over his desk. He was just about to fall asleep when Hermione poked him in the ribs, whispering, "Oh my God! What happened to Malfoy?"   
Harry opened his eyes and turned, like everyone else, to the back of the room. Malfoy was walking unsteadily into the room, leaning most of his weight onto Alden's shoulder. There were two healing wounds on his face, one above his eyebrow and the other across his cheek. His lower lip was cracked and swelling, while his arm, wrapped in a stiff white cast, lay limp in a sling. He glared around the room threateningly as Alden half-carried him toward the front. Snape frowned at her suspiciously as she eased hid favorite onto the stool. The rest of the class was silent. This wasn't the first time.   
It was the middle of their 5th year when Malfoy started having these 'accidents'. He would come into class with a black eye or a fractured limb, telling the others he had 'fallen off his broom' or 'tripped on the stairs'. No one dared to ask what was really going on. The 'accidents' usually began after Midterms, but this time it was the second month of school.   
Harry had never seen Malfoy that roughed up. He supposed Madame Pomfrey usually fixed him up better. But she had left the second week of school to go help the Northern Allience Army, and the new nurse wasn't up to par. There was a dull glimmer of pain in his eyes as Draco gingerly moved his arm onto the desk before him. Harry looked away, in some strange way ashamed.   
Alden leaned across Snape's desk. "Draco's wand backfired, and he got knocked down the stairs. I'll be back after the period to take him to the nurse."   
"Hadn't you better get him there now?" Snape inquired icily, glancing from the drying blood on Draco's face to the intense sadness in Alden's eyes. She shook her head, simply saying,   
"Madame Rochefort is busy." She turned and Snape fell silent. Harry was amazed; no one but the Head Master had ever silenced Snape before. He watched Alden as she walked down the aisle to leave, once again filled with new respect. She gently reached out and touched Draco's arm as she passed him. Her eyes were foggy and troubled as she passed Harry's desk, not looking up again until she left the room. Harry tried to catch Ron's eye to ascertain his reaction, but his friend was watching Dumbledore's neice leave the room. When he turned around, Ron was frowning, his face the picture of confusion. The entire room was tense, waiting for some direction from Snape. The professor cleared his throat and stood.   
"I'd like you all to take out the ingrediants for the Elixer of Depression. Make sure the gillyweed is well grounded, and don't leave out the frog spleen. Failure to do these things will result in an explotion large enough to shake this castle right off its foundation. As you are all sitting in that foundation," he added with a sneer, "It is in your best intrest to get it right."   
Students began pulling out books and ingrediants. Harry had just taken out some crushed snake fangs when he felt the Potion master's hard sinewy hand on his shoulder. "Mr Potter..."   
Harry gulped and looked up. Snape towered over him as he said to the four friends, "All of your seven years here you've worked together. Time for a change of air, hm? Weasly, I want you to move up and work with Malfoy. Granger, head over there and work with Goyle. Thomas, kindly allow Miss Parkinson to sit in that empty seat beside you. Potter, you can do this alone."   
They exchanged glances, then Ron and Hermione got up and moved. Harry first watched Hermione walk away and sit on the edge of her stool, as far from Goyle as she could. Then his eyes swung up to Ron and Draco. They appeared to be bickering already. Again he heard the soft dangerous voice in his ear. "Potter, a word."   
Harry glanced up at Snape's face again. "Yes, sir?"   
The Potions master leaned down quite close to Harry's face. He was paler than usual, his features more contorted. In his quiet, deadly way he hissed, "I have known the Malfoys and the Potters all my life, and never have I known another hatred so deep. Now, I'm not sure who has been attacking Draco, but I intend to find out. And if any, hear me, ANY clues point toward you or your friends, Potter..."   
Harry blinked as Snape swept away again. Then he shook his head. Rubbish! Sure, he and Draco weren't on the best terms, but still... he would never do something like this... never... not even to Malfoy... well, maybe...   
Sullenly, Harry flipped through his book, looking for the recipe. As he found it, a clear peal of laughter rang through the dungeon. Startled, Harry dropped the frog spleen he had just taken out and looked up. He gasped: Draco and Ron were roaring with laughter together. Just like he and Ron often did. Color sprang to his cheecks as his anger rose. No one else had the right to be better friends with Ron than he was. Especially not Malfoy.   
  
"Well? What was that?"   
Ron looked up at Harry. "Huh?"   
"You and Malfoy!" Harry exploded from across the lunch table. "You two were talking and laughing for two hours straight!"   
"So?" Ron frowned. "What's wrong with that?"   
"Hello?! Ron!! This is Malfoy we're talking about!" Hermione threw in. "Draco Malfoy! Son of Lucius Malfoy! Don't you remember anything??"   
"I dunno," muttered Dean thoughtfully, "He seems alright to me this year..." Dean quickly bowed his head as Harry and Hermione glared at him.   
"Look, forget about it," Ron said, taking a bite out of his sandwhich, "I just felt, I dunno, sorry for him, I guess. So we just fell to talking..."   
Harry grumbled, but they all hushed up as Silvia and Kayla came over to sit with them. Dean greeted them, while the three others muttered indistinctly. Kayla raised an eyebrow as she flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Tough crowd."   
Silvia looked at Dean questioningly, but he shook his head. They ate on in silence.   
  
Harry sat in the back of the room, his eyes glazeing over. Again he checked his watch; there were only five minutes left now. A folded piece of parchment hit him on the cheeck. He looked down at it, then over to the table across the way. It had been thrown by Hermione, who gestured to him to hand it to Ron. Harry poked his friend in the ribs, waking Ron with a start. He slid it to his yawning companion. Leaning on his elbows, Ron unfolded the note and read it. Harry tried to read over his shoulder, but it was impossible. Ron scribbled something on it and tossed it back. Then, with another yawn, he fell back asleep.   
Hermione read the note and gasped. How dare Ron say that! She began to scribble down a furious reply when the note went flying out of her hands. "Passing notes, are we Miss Granger?"   
The other girls giggled as Hermione blushed and looked away from Professor Flitwick. He frowned, then tapped the note with his wand. In a flash it disappeared. "Don't ever let me catch that again. Now, class, I have an announcement to make. As you all know- would someone please wake Weasly? Thank you, Potter. Now, as you all know, today is the 18th of December. I would like to remind - Thomas, stop slumping, sit up straight. I would like to remind you all that the Yule Ball - now really, settle down class!"   
At this, every girl in the room squealed with delight as every boy in the room slid down under his desk. "I thought they canceled it for good last year!" Dean moaned.   
"Oh, don't be silly!" Hermione giggled. Harry and Ron exchanged looks. Hermione giggling? All could not be well. Especially not with a Yule Ball coming up.   
  
"So, how do we go about this?" The boys were all huddled down at one end of the Gryffindor table, heads bent together. Toward the middle of the table, the girls all sat laughing together, glancing at boys all over the Great Hall and flashing brillient smiles. Beyond them, at the other end of the table, sat Alden, Kayla, and Silvia. They were talking like civilized people, ignoring Hermione's constant invitations to join the others. Harry turned back to the boys.   
"Here's an idea," Dean said upon reflection, "We just go up to the first girl we met in the halls and ask them to the Ball."   
"What if the first girl we meet is someone we'd rather not take?" Harry asked. They all glanced over at the Slytherin girls, some of whom smiled at Dean and waved. Dean shuddered.   
"Right, bad plan. How 'bout you, Ron?"   
Ron was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Let's just ask friends. It'll be easier. Like, Harry, you ask Hermione, Dean can ask Silvia, and I'll ask Alden. Because it'll just be us asking our buddies, you know." he added quickly.   
Harry and Dean nodded. It sounded good to them. "So now we just have to actually ask them." Harry said brightly. A moment passed as they let those words sink in.   
"Oh God!" they all moaned. 


	11. Back to the Dressrobes and Handcuffs

Barry Potter - Chapter 9   
  
Harry lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was full, images swirling before him. He rolled over and closed his eyes. He wanted to review everything.   
It hadn't been so bad asking the girls to the dance. They had all gone together during dinner, approaching the girls cautiously and all speaking in unison. Silvia and Hermione had blushed, smiling and accepting. Alden had choked on a chicken bone, and managed to accept after Kayla whacked her on the back. Harry smiled, remembering the look on her face. Hilarious, really.   
The weeks had flown by, and the night finally arrived. Harry concentrated on it, forcing it to come into his mind...   
  
They arrived down at the Great Hall, talking and laughing as a group. The Hall was as before, round tables and stage at one end. Kayla was sitting on the stage, tuning her double bass. She glanced up and smiled at them, with a friendly nod of the head. Silvia and Dean headed over to her while the four others went to find their friends.   
Harry saw Draco standing in the corner with Goyle, eyes coldly sweeping about the room. Harry grinned as he realized that Draco was with out a date. He gently took Hermione's arm and continued on.   
Draco glared fiercely as he watched Harry lead Hermione away. Glaring made the scab on his cheek tighten painfully, and with a grimace he let his face resume its usual smirk. It still irritated him how lucky Harry was. Potter had had his way with everyone since day one. It wasn't fair; but then, Draco recalled, life wasn't fair. He turned his eyes to the stage, where Kayla and Silvia were chatting. His eyes then swept back to the four friends, and a wicked grin appeared on his face.   
Goyle glanced at Draco, and shuddered as he saw the grin. It was always scary when Draco smiled, but this smile was chilling.   
With a casual air, Draco said to Goyle, "You know, this might be an interesting evening after all."   
"How so?"   
Draco laughed, and Goyle shuddered again. "You'll see, you'll see."   
The steady beat of Kayla's double base soon filled the room. Students were tapping their feet and chatting, though few boys had mustered the courage to ask their date to a dance. Harry and Ron stood up, excusing themselves from their small group of friends to get some drinks. Hermione kept her eye on them as they wove their way across the hall. She tugged on the sleeve of Alden's dress robe. "He's really something, isn't he?"   
"Hmm?" Alden turned and tried to follow Hermione's gaze. "Who?"   
"Harry, of course. Who else?"   
"Dunno, could have been anyone."   
Hermione rolled her eyes, then returned her gaze to the Boy Who Lived. She sighed, a bit dreamily. "He's perfect."   
Alden studied Harry's back thoughtfully as he ordered the drinks. "Yeah, he is. Creepy, eh?"   
"No, not creepy! Wonderful. And I'm sure he's a great kisser."   
Alden spat the Butterbeer she had just drunk back into the mug. "Hermione! That's sick!"   
Hermione turned to look at her. "Sick?"   
"You're thinking about kissing him! That's - that's just wrong!"   
"How so?"   
"You've been best friends for 7 years now. He asks you to go to the dance with him, and suddenly you're wondering if he's a good kisser. There is defiantly something wrong with this picture."   
Hermione replied huffily, "Not at all! If you must know, I've... I've been quite taken with Harry ever since I met him. And come on! Don't tell me you've never thought of kissing Ron."   
"It never occurred to me." Alden locked her gaze onto Hermione's eyes, and Hermione gave an involuntary shudder. Her friend's two-colored eyes always gave her the creeps. She often felt that they went deeper into Alden's soul than she had ever really said... but what did that mean? Alden was just another girl, albeit with a more unusual history then most. Still, there were times when Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that her American chum could read her mind.   
She turned her eyes away, flicking her hair over shoulder and looking toward Harry. "Look, they're coming back. Not a word about kissing."   
"Not a word."   
As Harry had walked away from the table he had glanced at Draco Malfoy again. He distinctly disliked the way his nemesis was looking at his date. While he and Ron waited for their drinks, Harry kept his eyes trained on Draco, who had a decidedly evil glint in his eyes. He leaned back on the makeshift bar, while Ron began to muse.   
"I can't believe it. I mean, me and Alden Dumbledore, here, at the Yule Ball at Hogwarts. And then there's Dean and Silvia Moone. Can you believe it? After all those fan letters he wrote to her... and then there's you and Hermione." Ron frowned, thinking. "That's where I get stuck."   
Harry swung his eyes to Ron, asking somewhat defensively, "What's wrong with me an' Hermione?"   
Ron shook his head and tried to shrug the comment away, but Harry persisted. At last Ron said, "It just seems... odd. After all these years, you two suddenly seem to have, I dunno, hit it off. It's just... fast, that's all."   
Now Harry looked away, eyes briefly sweeping over to Hermione. She was talking to Alden , God knows about what. Girl stuff, most likely. He quickly drank in the curve of Hermione's neck as she exposed it while toying with her hair. She was beautiful now... but then, she always had been. In a moment of complete, utter trust and friendship, he said quietly to Ron, "It's not that fast. It's taken me 7 years to build up the guts."   
Ron nodded silently, though only half-believing. He remembered all too well the hopeless moaning when Harry had been rejected by Cho. Every time he had been rejected by Cho. And that was a lot of times. The drinks came, and the two boys made their way back across the room to the girls.   
Soon Silvia's melodic voice flowed smoothly over the room. More boys now dared to dance with their dates, and the music became slower and softer. Harry watched as others slowly swung by him, some whispering and others simply swaying together to the beat of Kayla's double bass and the airy trill of Silvia's voice. Hermione was sitting beside him, coughing once or twice expectantly. Alden and Ron were too deeply engrossed in discussing Quidditch tactics to think about the romantic setting blossoming around them as the lights faded some and Silvia began singing a low love song. Dean was gazing up the stage, lost in his own thoughts and dreams. Several girls without dates had asked him to dance, but all had been sent off with a dismissive shake of Dean's head. Harry glanced toward Draco. The devious Slytherin hadn't moved an inch.   
Hermione sighed, making Harry fidget uncomfortably. Her eyes swung lazily around the room, and settled for a moment on Draco. Their eyes met and locked, and, oddly enough, Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. She quickly turned away, cheeks burning slightly as she felt Draco's eyes remain on her. Oh, why wouldn't he look away? Why wouldn't Harry notice the way he was looking at her? And why, for one fleeting moment, had she wanted to allow her eyes to linger? To remain gazing into his eyes forever? To... oh, God! What was she saying? Thinking? Whatever!   
Harry sensed Hermione shift uncomfortably in her seat. His eyes darted up to Malfoy. Draco was still smirking across the hall at Hermione, who continued to keep her eyes down on her hands. Red flashed before Harry's eyes; what gave Draco the right to look at Hermione that way? He pulled gently on Hermione's sleeve, "Hey, would you like to dance?"   
She raised her head to him gratefully, and they rose. Draco scowled a bit as he watched them, eyes locked on their backs as they swung round and round. It was all so sickeningly sweet... more than he could bear. Silently he began gliding along the wall toward the stage. Harry picked up his motion, but was too lost in pleasure to think much of it.   
Hermione gently rested her head on Harry's shoulder, and his pulse quickened. He was so close to her, he could feel her slow, steady breath...   
She shivered a bit, feeling his warmth and strength radiating toward her. She felt safe, safe from troubles, safe from the turbulent world. But most of all, she felt safe from eyes. Alden's eyes. Draco's eyes. Snake eyes...   
'Snake eyes? Where did that come from?' she wondered. But no matter. She once again allowed her thoughts to drift freely, glad to be safe and supported as she leaned on Harry's shoulder.   
All too soon for Harry's taste, the song ended. Hermione gently pulled herself away to join the applause. Harry's eyes wandered up to the stage, and they paused on Draco Malfoy. Draco had made it up to the edge of the stage and was whispering with Silvia.   
Silvia shook her head, "I've never heard of it." She turned to her sister, "How 'bout you, Kay?"   
Kayla frowned and silently shook her head as well. Draco smiled craftily, "That's fine. I have the sheet music with me." He coolly drew a sheet of parchment from his pocket, handing it up to Silvia.   
The girl's cat-like eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You carry sheet music with you?"   
Draco nodded innocently, and Silvia sighed. She had no reason to distrust Draco, though it did seem odd... She turned to the music again, glancing over it with an expert eye. "It's just a base part, then?"   
Draco shook his head, "The words aren't in English, thought it'd be easier for you not to sing them."   
"I'm good with languages. Let me try."   
"As you wish..." Draco drew another sheet from his pocket and handed it to her. Silvia's eyes darted over the page, mouthing words she didn't understand.   
"'Srehtaf fo reredrum, luof si doolb reh'? Perhaps you were right." She returned the paper to Draco, who slid it quickly back into his pocket.   
"But can you play it?"   
Silvia turned to her sister questioningly. Kayla finished perusing the paper and nodded. Draco grinned, muttering thanks. He then slipped off to his post again where he had left Goyle waiting.   
Kayla studied the music once more, then confidently struck the first bar. Alden's head snapped up and she whirled around to face the stage. Harry and Ron frowned, exchanging glances. It was the music Alden hummed to herself in the halls, and what she had sung as she waited for them at the Quidditch pitch. Other students turned and saw her, gazing up at the stage with a combination of hatred and terror. The dancers all slowed, watching Alden as she sat transfixed, staring up at the stage with fire in her eyes. It was eerie, surreal to see her, with the haunting music dancing in the background. It was as though someone had cast a spell over the room, turning everyone to stone save Kayla, who continued playing as though nothing was happening.   
The song seemed to last forever, sweat trickling down Harry's face and neck. Some fell into his eye, clouding his vision, but he couldn't move his hand to wipe it away. At last the song ended, and silence reigned. Suddenly, Alden became reanimated, twisting sharply around to face Draco from across the hall. Her motion was like a domino effect, students slowly falling into polite applause and chatting edgily. Draco's smirk broadened, stretching up into his eyes, which were usually cold and indifferent. The scab on his cheek was again stretching painfully, but he hid the pain and stared evenly back into Alden's eyes.   
Ron watched, still half-dazed, as Alden's breathing slowed and the fire faded from her eyes. She was soon simply glaring at Draco, as any school girl might have glared at an offending party. At last, the pain in Draco's cheek became overwhelming and he turned away. Gently, Ron reached out and touched her arm. She turned slowly, eyes now somewhat dim and sad. He hadn't seen that veil over her eyes since she had talked about Toby the first night of the year. But as she looked up at him, they regained their sparkle and mischievous glint that still reminded him a bit of the twins. "Sorry," she muttered, moving her hand as if to wave the incident away, "I haven't heard that song played in a long time..."   
He nodded understandingly, hand still on her arm protectively. They soon drifted back into conversation, chatting and even laughing as if nothing had happened. But his hand stayed on her arm, and she allowed it to remain. It was the only reminder that something had changed.   
Silvia and Kayla bent toward each other, speaking in rapid whispers, trying to think of a song that would easy the tense mood. At last they reached an agreement, and Silvia pulled her flute out. With Kayla playing the baseline, Silvia struck up an airy tune, and students began dancing and laughing again. Inwardly, Kayla sighed with relief and bent her head lower over her double bass.   
Calm prevailed for about another hour. Harry and Hermione whirled around the room, Draco's eyes constantly on them. Alden and Ron continued chatting, while Dean continued to watch the stage and throw his thoughts in now and again. But all too soon trouble stirred again. In a pause between numbers, a resounding knock was heard on the door.   
Everyone turned to see who it was. Snape, who had been watching everything with a singular look of disgust on his face, swept silently forward to open the great doors. There, framed by the massive wooden slabs, stood Percy, large and formidable. His eyes glanced coldly around the room, at last swinging up to the stage. He drew out a warrant and called out, "Moone, you're under arrest."   
Silvia's face drained of its color as Kayla rose angrily. "Which of us?" the older girl called hotly.   
"Silvia Moone is under arrest."   
"On what charges?"   
"The murder of Terrace Doogle."   
Silvia became paler, and she took a step backward. Kayla hissed angrily, but said nothing more. Snape half-bowed respectfully, saying in his deadly voice, "Minister, might I see the warrant?"   
Percy handed the arrest warrant, eyes locked on Silvia. Dean stood up, then sat down, only to stand up and sit down again. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked between Percy and Silvia, shocked beyond words. In his corner, Draco's eyes gleamed triumphantly. Alden closed her eyes, bowing her head and taking deep, steadying breaths.   
Snape nodded, handing the warrant back to Percy. "All seems to be in order. You may proceed, Minister."   
With a signal, Percy sent four wizards into the room. They swept through the students, reaching and mounting the stage in no time. Silvia had backed against the wall and was mumbling unintelligibly. Two stepped forward, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders and spinning her around. She made no protest as they tied her hands together, then began leading her off the stage, head down, hair falling around her face like a swaying curtain.   
It was more than Kayla could bear. "Stop this instant! She's innocent, it's me you want!"   
Silvia raised her frightened eyes, calling softly to her sister, "Kay, no, don't!"   
But Kayla was infuriated. She took a step down from the stage, eyes flashing across the room at Percy. "I did it. I killed Terrace Doogle, and I'm proud. Let Silvia go."   
"Seize her!" Percy called, and the two remaining escorts leapt toward Kayla, grabbing her and tying her arms behind her back. Her eyes flashed dangerously, and she said in an icy voice,   
"Now let Silvia go."   
Percy smirked at her. "No."   
Kayla shrieked and threw her weight forward, trying to free herself. But the guards were strong, and gripped her shoulders tightly. She struggled, but at length one of the guards raised his wand and Stunned her. She fell limp and silent. With another signal, Percy ordered the guards to lead the Moones from the room.   
The students fell back, silent as the two girls were lead by. Alden sat, eyes still closed, clenching and unclenching her fists until they were about half way across the room. Then, in one fluid motion, she rose and slid to the center of the room, blocking their path with a raised wand.   
The four guards froze, holding their wards tightly but unsure of what to do. There was a strange, deadly light in Alden's eyes, and it made even the grown wizards shudder. She spoke at length, in an odd, raspy voice none had heard her use before. "Let them go."   
Percy stepped into the room, raising his own wand. "Professor Snape, permission to Stun this student."   
"Permission granted, Minister." No sooner had the words left Snape's lips then two things happened at once. A burst of green light exploded from the end of Percy's wand, blasting its way toward Alden. At the same moment Alden ducked and whirled around, the spell just missing her and striking one of the guards, who went flying backwards and hit the ground. A spell shot from Alden's wand and slammed Percy from the doorway and into the entrance hall. Eyes glinting devilishly, the girl whirled around again to face the remaining guards, bending her head sideways just in time to miss the blast as all three shot Stunning spells at her at the same time. Pale white light exploded from her own wand, knocking the two guards holding Kayla down and singeing the arm of the third. She threw her hair back, face distorted with what could only have been rage, as she prepared to execute the final blast.   
But then she froze. Silvia's voice rang calmly over the room, singing, "The one so bright, the one so dark, One a falcon, one a lark..."   
Her voice faded, yet kept a distinct hold on Alden. Her wand was still raised, but her eyes seemed dull and weary. Silvia said softly, "Stand down."   
Alden sank to the ground, arms falling limp at her side. Silence once again engulfed the Great Hall, seeming loud and ringing after the clash of sound. The three fallen guards began struggling to their feet, raising Kayla's still limp body and once again surrounding the two sisters. Percy staggered to the door, signaling the men to leave the room. He waited until they had gone, eyes still fixed on Alden's dejected form. At last he hissed to Snape, "Dumbledore will hear of this!" and swept from the stunned room.   
  
They had all been sent to their dormitories, of course. Harry tossed and turned, still puzzling over the meaning of it all. There was something missing still from the puzzle, something he couldn't put his finger on... Slowly, he drifted off into a troubled sleep.   
  
Miles away, Barry Potter woke with a start. The figure in the chair beside his bed moved, voice ringing out softly, "What's wrong, Barry dear?" 


	12. Interlude

Barry Potter - Chapter 10   
  
Barry once again found himself sitting up late at night, cup of tea in hand. He looked across the table the professor and Coren. It was still a shock to wake up and find an elderly woman sitting by his bedside. It oddly felt almost like having a grandmother, though she was probably only Coren's age. Her twany eyes were always watching him with a tender, caring gaze. Like Coren, but maternal. It was an odd feeling. Oddly pleasant.   
"So tell me once more what your dream was?" Professor McGonagall rubbed her temples and peered across the table at Barry. His resemblance to Harry was truly remarkable. But then, they were twins. She leaned closer to him.   
He looked into his mug, swirling his tea for a few moments. At last Barry looked back up and said, "I dreamed that I was at Hogwarts with Harry and three girls. One had long black hair, another blonde, and the last brown. We were all talking, but men in wizards robes came to take the first two away, and the third flipped. Harry and I tried to stop her, but she went mad. Then she turned into... I don't know how to describe it, it was almost..."   
"A black wolf with snake eyes." Barry tilted his head in surprise.   
"Yeah. How'd you know?"   
MacGonagall smiled mysteriously, saying with a cryptic note to her voice, "One has to know these things when one teaches witchcraft and wizardry. What happened next?"   
"Well, someone started singing, dunno who, and suddenly the black beast disappeared and the girl with brown hair came back. But she still had yellow snake eyes. It was... confusing." Barry turned back to his tea, swirling it around his mug once more. The professor's eyes twinkled behind her glasses, seeming to pierce into Barry's heart, though he was unsure why.   
"I told Dumbledore not to bring her, but did he listen to me?" she muttered to herself, looking away from Barry with a sigh. The boy looked up.   
"Excuse me?"   
"Never mind, Barry. Finish your tea then right back to bed, there's a love. Good night." Barry finished his tea and soon crawled back into bed. Once he was gone, Coren turned to MacGonagall.   
"Will 'e be alright?" His eyes were large and concerned. So much had happened to Barry all at once. It wasn't fair, poor tike. No, he wasn't a tike anymore, he was nearly a grown man. Nearly.   
She smiled sweetly, "He'll be fine, Coren, never fear. I've got my eye on him. I'm more worried about my students at school..."   
Coren nodded, managing to stifle a yawn. All the late nights recently weren't doing him any good. The professor saw this and shooed him off to bed. He rose, bid her good night, and lumbered off to his room, Spyke padding sleepily after him.   
Minerva sat up right through the rest of the night and into the early morning, thinking and scribbling on a piece of parchment. At last, she looked down at her handiwork. With a satisfied grin, she went out back and sent the parchment off to Hogwarts.   
  
Barry slammed his locker closed and strolled down the bustling school corridor. At last he reached the large double doors, closed tightly against the still frigid air. Pushing against a rough wind, he managed to swing the door wide open and step out. Jenni was sitting on the third step, waiting for him.   
He stood silently, examining her back for a moment. She was tall for her age, with short dark hair that brushed her shoulders gently as she moved her head in time to the music she was listening to. Most guys would have called her pretty, but to Barry, she was beautiful. And the only friend he had.   
With a sigh at that last thought, he stepped toward her. She jumped slightly, hearing his footsteps. Turning, she brought her eyes up to his. They brightened as she saw him, and a smile spread across her face. She pulled her earphones off, rising up to greet him.   
"Cold enough?" she shivered. Barry shrugged.   
"I'm fine. What about you?" He noted that she was wearing a spring jacket, not at all the coat to keep a strong wind like this one off. She laughed, rubbing her arms lightly.   
"It was a lot warmer this morning. Let's go, before we freeze." They started toward the bus stop, walking silently side by side. That was one of the things he liked about Jenni. He never felt he needed to say much to her. Most girls expected him to talk, and that expectation always left him tongue-tied. He didn't need to talk to Jenni, but she was always there to talk to.   
They stood close, shivering as they waited together for the bus. Jenni rubbed her arms again, trying to return the feeling to them. Concerned, Barry pulled off his own coat and offered it to her. She shook her head, pushing it toward him, "Barry, you'll freeze, put your coat back on."   
"No, I'm fine," Barry pulled the coat over her shoulders, "This sweater's thick enough."   
She shrugged, pulling the coat on tighter and sighing warmly. Barry reached his arm around her shoulder boldly, hugging her to his chest. Her body was warm beside his, and he could feel the slow, steady beating of her heart. Jenni gently lay her head down onto his shoulder, and he tucked her head under his chin. They stood silently again, no longer noticing the cold.   
They got off the bus after thirteen stops, cold air hitting them sharply in the faces. They trudged the two extra blocks to Coren's tattoo parlor, and paused at the alley door. Barry fumbled for his key, then hesitated as he put it into the lock. "Do you... do you wanna step in? To warm up an all?"   
"Can I?" Barry nodded, pushing the door wide open for her. They stepped inside, gasping in the sudden heat. Jenni pulled Barry's coat off, hanging it on its usual peg by the door. They could hear Coren talking farther inside, and fancied they could also smell spiced apples and hot chocolate.  
"Hey Father! Mouse, what are you doing here? It's not Tuesday!" Barry laughed swooping the small child at the table beside Coren up into his arms. The little girl dubbed Mouse shrieked in delight as Barry swung her around in the air, at last settling her down on his lap as he slung himself into a chair.   
"I wanted to visit," she giggled, still giddy from Barry's sudden arrival, "And Mum and Coren said I could."   
Barry stuck out his chin in mock indigence. "Well, I say you can't."   
"Well I say I CAN!" Mouse yelled, clapping her hands and laughing. She wriggled out of Barry's lap and found her way into Jenni's arms. "Jen-jen's here!"   
Jenni laughed, "Mousie's Jen-jen is here! How've you been, you little imp? Behaving yourself?"   
Mouse smiled with all the childhood innocence she could muster. "Mouse very good! Now come. Jen-jen have hot cocoa."   
"Oh, is that what I smell?" Balancing the tot on her hip, she made her way around the dinning room table and into the kitchen, Barry watching until the door swung shut behind her. He gazed at the door for a moment, listening to the two girls laughing and the dogs sliding across the slippery kitchen floor, half-mad with excitement. Coren's voice brought him sharply back to earth.   
"She's something, isn't she?"   
Barry half-turned, eyes meeting the old man's then quickly dancing away. "Mouse? Oh, I'm quite taken with her. Expect to propose to her any day."   
"Come off it," Coren chuckled, stirring his own hot chocolate. Fang grunted in agreement from where he lay on the hearth rug, soaking up the fire's warmth. "But really. What about that Jenni girl?"   
Barry felt his ears go slightly red, and he began studying the pattern on the rug intently. "What about her?"   
Coren's eyes glittered over the top of his mug. "She's a good friend, ain't she?"   
"She's my only friend," Barry sighed, "My only real friend."   
"No! Really?"   
"Yup."   
"What about that Bobby?"   
"He got thrown in jail for doing drugs."   
"Oh.... well, what about Frank Waterson?"   
"He stopped talking to me."   
"Why?"   
"I'm no good at football."   
"What?"   
"See!" Barry exclaimed angrily, "I haven't got any real friends! They either hate me or use me. Well, all but Jenni."   
Coren sat quietly, continuing to sip his cocoa and letting Barry's words sink into the room. There was a noise at the door, and it swung open. Spyke and Fluffy came bounding in, the smaller pup yipping madly. Next came Mouse, balancing her full cocoa mug and moving at a crawl, step by step. Last was Jenni, with two empty mugs in one hand and pan full of steaming hot chocolate in the other. While Mouse scrambled up into her chair, Jenni put the mugs on the table, filling one for Barry and one for herself before slipping back into the kitchen to return the pan to the stove. Barry pulled his cocoa toward himself, warm feeling in his heart that Jenni had thought of him. Oh, that was stupid. She was just being friendly. What? God, he was such a dork.   
Coren studied his ward, guessing at the thoughts running through the young man's head. He turned to Mouse, "Dear, how'd you like to come with me into the parlor to draw some new patterns?"   
Mouse looked up thoughtfully at Coren. She was almost never allowed to help Coren design tattoo patterns. On the other hand, she also didn't often have the warm chocolate treat now steaming before her, and Coren strictly enforced a no food or drink rule in the parlor. "Cocoa?" she asked suspiciously.   
With a slightly resigned nod, Coren agreed. "Yeah, bring the hot cocoa."   
Uttering a delighted squeal, Mouse leapt up, scuttling with Spyke in and around Coren's legs as he carried their mugs into the adjoining shop. As the door clicked closed behind them, Jenni reentered the room from the kitchen. She paused, finding Barry alone. Not looking up, he motioned to her cup, "You're drink's getting cold."   
"Where'd Mouse and Coren go?" she asked, slipping into an empty seat and picking up her mug.   
"Mouse wanted to draw some patterns," Barry said bluntly. He couldn't help feeling disappointed that she wanted to know where the others had gone. Was she uncomfortable alone with him? Was he- oh, come off it! He was doing it again. Crazy, really. Completely insane.   
Jenni took a sip of her still steaming cocoa, eyes trained on Barry. At length she put her mug down and gazed earnestly into his usually bright eyes that were now clouded. "Barry, what's wrong?"   
Her voice was genuinely concerned. She really wanted to know what was wrong. This, in itself, made Barry's heart skip a beat. She cared about him. She and Coren cared about him. "Lot of stuff going on. You know, university and all."   
She nodded slowly, seeming unconvinced. Barry hid his face as he took a swig of hot chocolate; her eyes were piercing and perceptive. He heard her moving around, and when at length he returned his mug to the table she was sitting on the hearth rug with Fang and Fluffy, gently stroking the older dog's head as she sipped her cocoa. Jenni glanced up at him, then patted the ground beside her. "It's warmer over here."   
Barry got up and slowly crossed to sit beside her. It was much warmer, and very pleasant when Fluffy lay his head down on his master's leg with a gratified sigh. They sat again in silence, lost in their own musings. At length Jenni asked again, "What's wrong?"   
"Nothing, I swear." Barry looked down at Fluffy's shaggy head, uncomfortable looking her in the eye and lying. He was a terrible liar, always had been. And something about Jenni always made lying even harder.   
"It's me, isn't it? I can leave." Jenni picked up her mug and started getting herself up. Barry looked up dumbly for a moment, then reached out and grabbed her arm.   
"No! No, stay!"   
"Barry," she tottered for a moment, half up and half down with Barry's hand on her arm, "Barry, I'm making you uncomfortable, don't think I haven't noticed. I'll leave you alone, you don't want me here right now."   
"But I do!" His hand tightened around her thin arm.   
"Don't worry, I'm not offended! It's me, I'll leave!"   
"No." He forcefully pulled her back down with a soft thud, making Fluffy lift his head in surprise and Fang grunt in his sleep. Barry moved his hand around and gently held her neck and cheek in his hand so that she was forced to look him in the face. "No, Jenni, you don't understand. You're the only thing that's right."   
She stopped trying to rise, looking Barry in the eye and falling silent. Her skin was warm against his hand, and he could feel her slow, seemingly calculated breath again. She wasn't struggling with him anymore, and that gave Barry some much needed confidence.   
"Jenni, I don't know how to say this, but..." Suddenly, that confidence failed him, and the right words refused to budge from the tip of his tongue. "... I'm really glad to have you as a friend. You know, I don't really have many, and I wanted you to know I'm thankful you... you know... are there for me. You know?"   
Her eyes were once again piercing into his own. He managed to gaze back at her evenly, though he trembled slightly and was forced to draw his arm from her neck for fear she would notice. At length a smiled played across her face as she found the true, hidden meaning of his words. She leaned forward, her face less than an inch from his. Barry drew in a sharp breath, feeling her heat so close to his own. In a soft voice, she whispered, "I like you too." The next thing Barry knew, Jenni had finished moving forward and their lips were locked together pleasantly.   
Barry had never kissed anyone before, had never really wanted to. Well, that was a bit of a lie, he admitted as he moved his arm to Jenni's neck again. But now that he knew what this whole kissing business was all about... well, he was a young man after all, and not entirely in control of all of his thoughts and emotions...   
All too soon they broke away, both faces tinged slightly with color as they realized what had just happened, where they were, and who was in the other room. For a moment they avoided each other's eyes, trying to get their thoughts together before facing each other again. Jenni recovered first, pressing Barry's hand gently and breathing, "Call me. I'll let myself out."   
Barry nodded slowly, allowing her to lightly kiss his cheek then draw away, rising up and placing her mug on the table. She silently left the room, leaving him sitting on the hearth rug, alone with his thoughts and his dogs.   
  
That was how Mrs. Jettison found him two hours later when she came to pick up Mouse. He was staring at nothing, mug of cooled cocoa in one hand, the other resting on Fang's head while Fluffy slumbered on his knee. Mrs. Jettison's arrival made him start, and the sudden movement woke the dogs. Yawning, Fluffy rose and padded over to get his ear scratched while Barry hurried off to get Mouse. The little girl didn't want to leave the cozy little shop and her still half-full mug of chocolate behind, but with the promise that yes, she would return on Tuesday (as she always visited on Tuesday), Mouse happily skipped away with her mother, leaving only two people, three dogs, and one very wary cat with twany eyes. The cat crept into the parlor where Barry and Coren where studying each other. With a loud meow, the cat spit out the letter she had been carrying and sat before them, twitching her tail impatiently. Coren looked down at her, "What is it now?"   
"Another letter from Hogwarts," MacGonagall replied calmly, "And one I think you should read." 


	13. Bleeding Hearts

Barry Potter - Chapter 11   
  
"How long are you going to be away?"   
Barry looked down at Jenni's head, which was resting gently on his shoulder. A small grin flickered across his face. "You don't care that I'm going to meet my brother?"   
She rolled her eyes, lifting her head to look at him. "I going to miss you."   
"I'll miss you too."   
"I know..." Jenni let her head drop back onto Barry's shoulder. He gently placed a kiss on her forehead before resting his own head on hers. They gazed out at the sea for a while, lost in their own thoughts.   
  
Malfoy stumbled forward across the grounds. The bloody nurse hadn't healed his leg right after he "fell down the stairs." Stupid muggle-lover. He hated them all.   
He nearly turned to make a snide remark to Goyle, but caught himself. Goyle had been expelled the week before, and Draco now found himself helpless without either of his sidekicks. Kicking a clod of dirt angrily with his good leg, he kept walking toward the animal pen.   
A small group of Slytherins and Gryffindors were huddled around it, though the pen was deserted. As he moved toward the group, it parted before him, leaving a direct path to where Harry was standing with Hermione and Ron.   
Draco paused. The three friends hadn't spoken to him since the Moone sisters' arrest. Dean hadn't either, but then Dean had fallen ill the night of the Yule Ball, and hadn't spoken to anyone since. Alden had, that was for sure. His ears still rang from their last conversation, which had escalated to yelling in under a minute. But the hardest was not getting any response from the three now chatting before him.   
He hated Harry Potter. End of story. Arrogant brat, who could like him? Everyone else in the whole damn world, that's all.   
He wasn't so sure about Ron now. He had actually spoken with Ron this year, not simply bickered with, but spoken with. Once you got to know him, he wasn't half bad. In fact, he was a pleasant chap, very funny. But a Gryffindor, a muggle-lover, and a Weasly. What a shame.   
Hermione... damn her. End of story.   
Having rapidly summed it all up, Draco began moving forward again, eyes glaring. Harry's eyes darted toward him, matching his glare. Unfazed, Draco walked up to them, only stumbling once because of his bloody leg.   
"What's going on?" His face assumed its usual smirk as his eyes casually swung over the grounds. "Where's the half-giant?"   
Silently, Harry's muscles tensed. Since the arrest, he had been waiting for an opportunity to kill Malfoy. Now was as good a time as any. His eyes fixed on Malfoy's throat, and he prepared to spring.   
A thin hand caught him across the chest, and he darted a glance at Hermione. She shook her head, withdrawing the hand but looking at him in a warning manner. Harry allowed himself to relax. He hadn't wanted to fight with Malfoy, anyway.   
"Well?" Malfoy fixed his eyes once again on Harry's face, daring him to make a move. Draco knew he had the disadvantage due to his leg, but he figured he could hold Harry off with some practical applications of the Dark Arts. His smirk tried to spread across his face, but it was frozen by the pain that shot through the forming scab on his cheek.   
Not bothering to respond, Harry tossed a piece of parchment at Draco. His smirk replaced by a half-grin, he read aloud, "'Dear class, I won't be here today, but I expect someone to pop 'round and keep you occupied. Your teacher, Hagrid.' So?" Draco's eyes once again looked over the grounds. "Where's the replacement giant?"   
"Please!" Hermione found herself hissing, though she wasn't speaking with Draco. He turned to her in surprise, eyebrows raised slightly despite the pain in his cheek.   
"Please what?" Draco managed to ask, recovering from the shock that she had addressed him.   
Hermione closed and opened her eyes, taking a deep breath. She had just about had it with Malfoy... "I'm tired of you ratting on Hagrid because he's not a pure-blood human."   
"He's not a pure-blood anything!" Draco countered, old gleam in his eyes as a few Slytherins snickered. This was the way it was supposed to be; Malfoy vs. Potter, Weasly, or Granger.   
"It doesn't matter!" Hermione snapped, rolling her hands into fists. Harry put a hand on her shoulder, but Hermione pulled herself away, eyes still locked with Draco's.   
Draco laughed, "What, Potter? Not strong enough to restrain a girl? Too powerful, is she?"   
The Slytherin laughter grew as Harry lunged at Draco, only held back at the last moment by Ron. Harry tried to break Ron's grasp, but his friend was holding onto his arms with a firmer grip than Harry had ever felt from him before. This only increased the howls of laughter from Draco and the Slytherins. It hurt to laugh, and Draco grimaced, settling for his usual smirk over fits of laughter.   
"Well, well, well. Sympathizing with the enemy?" Draco's eyes now rested on Ron, who still held Harry back though he glared at Malfoy. "Gone soft, have we, Weasly?"   
No one was to sure what happened next, especially Hermione and Draco. Something in Hermione's enraged brain snapped, and she threw her hands into her pocket. From it she drew a knife she hardly recognized as her own, shouted something about making fun of her friends, and stabbed Draco.   
The others all froze, standing stock still as they watched the knife pierce Malfoy's thin robes and heard the odd smack as the steel entered his flesh. After a second of shock, Hermione released the blade, staggering backward with her eyes on Draco's face.   
Draco stood still, mouth slightly open. Slowly, gingerly, he lowered his head until he could see the knife where it protruded from his stomach. His breath was coming in large, uneven gasps as he tried to raise his head again. Before he could, he sank to his knees, falling backward into open arms. He blinked, thinking the pain was playing tricks on him. It wasn't; after recovering slightly from the moment of violence, Hermione had rushed forward and caught Draco as he fell.   
She gently held his head in her arms, studying his face as he closed his eyes. Her own was pale, and her entire frame was shaking slightly. "Draco, I... I..."   
Harry had long stopped struggling, and Ron had long since loosened his grip. The two boys stood there, dumb with shock. There was silence for a moment, broken only by the raspy, gasping breath of Draco where he lay in Hermione's arms.   
At length it occurred to Harry that the knife was still in Draco's stomach. He stumbled forward, bending down next to Hermione and gently grasping the knife's protruding handle. As he touched it, Draco inhaled deeply, eyes opening then slamming shut again in pain. Harry didn't seem to notice, but mechanically wrenched the knife from Draco's stomach. A few students gasped and recoiled as thick red blood began flowing from the wound, staining Draco's robes and even falling a little onto Hermione's. Harry stared dumbly at the wound, at the blood, at the knife he now held in his hand. He threw it roughly away, watching it bounce lightly on the grass, staining the fresh green with a terrible dark red.   
Draco's breaths were more even now, and he slowly eased his eyes open. There, once again, was Hermione's face. God, she was beautiful. Beautiful? What was he saying?? She was horrible, she had just stabbed him in the stomach, for crying out loud! Yet now, more than ever, he found her strangely attractive...   
He tried to shake his head, and a small moan of pain escaped his lips. Hermione gently raised his head, eyes huge with concern. "Draco...?"   
He tried to smirk, maybe to sneer, but all he managed was a weak smile. Hermione bit her lip, trying to hold back unexpected tears. She found it all absurd: she had stabbed Draco, and was now holding him in her arms, ready to sob. Insane. What was she doing there? She tried to pull the answer from her spinning head, but all her thoughts were suddenly lost as Draco smiled at her. It was a weak, faltering smile, but it reached his eyes. She had never seen him smile like that. It made him look so childish, so innocent... and she had stabbed him. He was going to die. Her fault.   
Draco turned his eyes away, taking in gulps of air. He found that Ron was now kneeling beside him as well. Ron tried to smile at him, but the attempt was worse than his own had been. "Alright, then, Malfoy?"   
Malfoy tried to keep his breathing even as he managed to splutter out, "Am I going to die?"   
There was certainly enough pain for something like death, that was for sure. The other students had formed a silent circle around them, too shell-shocked to run for a teacher. A collective shudder ran through the group as the words left Malfoy's mouth. Even the Gryffindors seemed terrified at the prospect. Harry felt a dull thumping in his ears. It was the sound of blood pumping to his brain, but he fancied it was the sound of blood pumping from Draco's limp body.   
Ron stumbled over his words, "Hope not. But I dunno, you're losing loads of blood... Hermione, got any blood clotting spells up your sleeve?"   
She shook her head slightly, eyes still fixed on Draco's face as its shades dropped to a white similar to her own. "We haven't covered internal wounds yet."   
Draco moaned again, half from pain, half from exasperation. "Doesn't sound too bright..."   
"Got any... you know, last words?" Ron struggled to make the words fall from his lips naturally, "I mean, just in case?"   
Draco looked silently at the faces surrounding him, taking a deep breath before saying, "Yeah. To three of you."   
The circle of students fell back a step. It was obvious who he meant. He managed to roll his head slightly toward Ron. He spoke slowly, deliberately, "Ron, if I don't make it, let me say that I'm sorry. It's just everything gets so complicated when you deal with fathers, you know?"   
Ron had no idea what Draco meant, but he had at least heard the part about being sorry. "Yeah. It's okay."   
Draco managed to smile weakly again. "No hard feelings then?"   
"None."   
"You're really not that bad, Ron."   
"You too, Draco."   
"Tell Alden I'm sorry, too. Tell her..." he managed to twist his face into an almost bitter smile "Tell her good luck at the World Cup."   
"Will do."   
"Thanks..." Draco painfully rolled his head back around. He was facing Harry. A look of black hatred shot from his slightly feverish eyes. "Potter..."   
Harry looked at him dumbly. "You're sorry?"   
"Hell no, Potter. You're a god damn fucking bastard. I'm not sorry at all. Just know, if I die, that I truly hate you, you asshole."   
Hermione blushed. She had never heard such a string of profanities and hatred, especially from an apparently dying boy. Draco shifted his gaze from a shocked and dazed Harry to the eyes of the girl who now held him so gently that it felt almost tender. "Hermione..."   
An electric tingle flew up her spine as he said her name aloud. Odd, now that he was dying, she felt an unexplainable compassion for him, and an odder sense of... attraction? Impossible, but that tingle in her spine... like when Harry looked at her sometimes... "Yes, Draco?"   
Words, half-formed thoughts, flew through Draco's head. The sun appeared dimmer now, and he felt light-headed, dizzy. The circle of students started spinning, everything started spinning. Everything but Hermione's face. That alone was clear, seeming to shine out at him through a daze. "Hermione..."   
His voice was softer now, a dying whisper. He tried to take a deep breath, but it made his throat burn. He coughed, hardly noticing that he was coughing up blood. Hermione tightened her grip around him, rigid with terror. For one wild second, as she watched a thin trail of blood trickle down his lower lip, she felt truly afraid of losing him. The very thought made no sense, but the feeling of blind panic it caused was real enough. She leaned forward to catch his words, gently wiping away some of the blood on his face as she did. "I'm here. What is it, Draco?"   
This might be his last chance. Now or never. "Hermione, I think you should know... if I die, I want you to know... that I have always... truly... despite all appearances... since I meet you... I have -"   
"Hold that thought."   
Everyone jumped as Alden's voice cut through the air, seeming sharper than the offending knife where it still lay in the grass. She was gliding toward them across the sloping hill, bicolor eyes glittering as though on the inside of some incomprehensible joke. She paused at the edge of the circle, drinking in the scene before her. Her eyes at last settled on Draco's bloody robes, and with a tisking noise she swept forward. Harry moved back, allowing Alden to kneel in his place as she swiftly studied the wound in Draco's stomach. She touched it lightly, and Malfoy stifled a yelp of pain. With a fluid motion, Alden tucked her hair behind her ears and drew out her wand, leaning over Draco's body. Placing one hand gently over the wound, she described a small circle above it with her wand, murmuring ancient words.   
Draco felt a sharp pang in his stomach, as though the blade had been once again jabbed into the wound. Then he felt a dull, numb sensation, then nothing. He raised a weak hand to his stomach, feeling the spot. There was still a sickeningly sticky substance across it, but the bleeding had most definitely stopped. He pushed himself lightly onto his elbows. Even his leg felt better. Alden patted his knee reassuringly, "It's not fatal."   
He sighed with relief, then realized he was lying across Hermione's lap, still held in her arms, and that Harry was glaring daggers at him. He half wished the wound had been fatal.   
After helping Draco rise, Alden picked up the knife. Hermione blushed and looked away, but Alden simply drew a rag from her pocket and cleaned the blade off. She then slid the knife into some hidden fold of her robe, glancing questioningly around the class. She at last followed all other eyes to Hermione, who turned a shade redder.   
When she spoke, it wasn't reprimanding or terrifying. With both her green and purple eyes trained on Hermione, she said, in a calm voice that seemed almost normal, "I don't care who did this or why. Just don't let me catch anyone with one of my little daggers again."   
Hermione started opening her mouth to protest that she had no idea how it got into her pocket or why she had used it, but Alden shook her head. "It's no one's fault." She drew the blade out again. It was gleaming a little, with a slightly orange tint. "This one's enchanted. Drawn to strong emotions." A wry grin shot across her face. "Most people don't get worked up enough to summon it, but," she slid it back into her pocket, "I'll keep a better eye on it now. Just so this doesn't happen again."   
Ron watched Alden's eyes closely. He didn't like the light in them, the almost devious light that lay glimmering just beneath their bright colors. It must just be the excitement, he decided. He wanted to talk to her later anyway.   
  
They had been by the sea for the entire vacation, but now that they had to leave, they couldn't tear their eyes away from its awesome beauty. Barry glanced again at his watch, and with a heavy heart patted Jenni on the shoulder. "We'll miss the train home if we don't leave now."   
She looked at him mournfully, then they slowly rose, taking one last look at the sea. Barry gently took Jenni's arm, drawing her slowly away. "We'll come back over the summer."   
Jenni turned, following his lead. "After you get back from Hogwarts."   
Barry threw his arm gently over her shoulder. "After I get back from Hogwarts." 


	14. A Tearful, Truthful Conversation

Barry Potter - Chapter 12   
  
Alden was sitting quietly in the Common Room, seemingly absorbed in her book when Ron found her. He sat beside her on the couch, a little closer than usual, but she didn't look up. He paused to study her face, drinking in her features. She was relaxed, a small smile playing across her lips and a happy twinkle in her eyes. Ron sat very still, mesmerized by her as her eyes darted across the words on the page before her. For a moment, he wanted time to stand still, so that he could sit there watching her forever.   
  
All too soon her eyes paused, then glanced up at Ron's face. Her grin grew for a second, and she asked, "What?"   
  
It took Ron a while to respond. He knew what he wanted to ask her, but he didn't really want to ask it. Eyes turned down to the book in her hands, he managed to say quietly, "How did Hermione get the knife?"   
  
He couldn't see Alden's face, but he felt her frown. He knew color was slowly rising to his freckled cheeks beneath the heat of her frown, so he began intently studying the page her book was opened to. It was a handwritten page, yellowed with age and use. Some of the words were slightly smudged, while others were underlined.   
  
Her voice broke through his thoughts, "I told you. It's attracted to high emotion. Very useful, actually."   
  
"That's not true," Ron looked up, eyes meeting hers. He shuddered as they did, and he would have given anything to take back his last words. The color was leaving his cheeks, because her heated frown had just fallen into an icy glare. "That's not true," he repeated unsteadily, "If it were, it would have happened before."   
  
Alden delicately raised as eyebrow, "When?"   
  
Summoning up his courage, Ron managed to look her in the eye and say, "If it's drawn to high emotion, wouldn't it have come to you on the night of the Moones' arrest?"   
  
He saw her freeze, and for a moment her eyes were like those of a rabbit caught in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler. Ron had never seen her like that; so prone, so utterly afraid and unsure of herself. He used the moment to his advantage, springing before she had a chance to recover and catching her totally off guard. "It wasn't a charmed knife. You sent it to Hermione, and you tricked her mind into making her use it. Didn't you?"   
  
He instantly regretted his accusation. He had expected her to rise up in anger, to shout or coolly tell him off, to brush away and shoot back another icy glare. But she didn't. Instead, she simply sat, stunned by the sharp and accurate words that had caught her unprepared to parry them. She once again appeared defenseless, stripped of her hardened outershell and exposed as only human. The accusation had hit home. And it hurt.   
  
Ron panicked as he saw two large tears beginning to well in Alden's eyes. He had never known what to do when girls cried, but when a girl who never cried cried... well, he was just at a loss. Some hidden instinct made him reach out, pulling her into his arms and forcing her to rest her head on his shoulder, not caring that her book slid from her lap to the floor with a clunk. She had never cried before, not around him, anyway. She had nearly cried when Viktor Krum died, but, he remembered, she hadn't actually. Now warm wet tears sunk into his robes as she leaned against his shoulder, body shaking slightly with angry sobs. Ron stopped trying to think, letting his instincts take over. He pulled her tighter, resting his head gently against hers as he slowly rocked her back and forth. Ron remembered his mother doing the same to him when, years ago, his pet goldfish had died. Only this was more serious, and this time he was doing the consoling.   
  
At last her sobbing subsided, and she just stayed silently in his strong arms. He relaxed a little, glad that she was no longer crying. Now he felt a tiny thrill as she sighed, sending a jet of warm breath onto his neck. She was warm and close; he could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her cheek brushing lightly with his. He ordered himself not to think about those things. He was here to take care of his distressed friend. She's just a friend, he reminded himself mentally. Just a friend. For now, he couldn't help throwing in as he felt more warmth tickle his neck when she sighed once again.   
  
"I'm sorry..." he told her softly, willing away his words from before. Alden pulled herself away a little, looking him in the eye. Both of her own were red and moist, and salty trails remained where the tears had cascaded down her face. Ron's heart went out to her, the tired little girl having a bad day that he had never seen before. He resisted the urge to draw her back in again, contenting himself to keep his arms loosely around her waist. He mentally noted that she hadn't removed herself from his arms entirely, and once again felt a tingling thrill.   
  
She shook her head, eyes cast down. "Don't be sorry. You didn't mean to..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked up at him. "You know what I mean."   
  
Ron nodded, not quite sure he fully understood everything, but grasping her meaning. Nonetheless, he found himself saying, "But why did you do it?"   
  
Despite her still moist eyes, she smiled. "They'll thank me one day."   
  
With that she pulled herself from him completely, picking up her book and rising from the couch. She slowly mounted the stairs, and Ron watched her go, feeling a mixture of sadness and confusion. The last thing he saw as she turned up the stair was the title of her book, gold lettering shining out from its black leather cover. It read 'You Are Your Father's Daughter, Not Your Father: Freeing Yourself.' 


	15. Platform 9 34

Barry Potter - Chapter 13   
  
Barry slowly began walking away from the car. Coren had rented a car for the occasion. It was, after all, the first time Barry would be meeting his twin brother. He shifted the shoulder strap of his suitcase nervously. McGonagall flashed him a reassuring smile, and he grinned weakly back.   
  
He turned to wave good-bye one last time. Jenni was there, Mouse sitting in her arms as they waved back at Barry. Coren, of course, was there as well, smiling proudly after him. Barry wasn't sure why, but Coren had seemed a lot more fatherly in the past couple of weeks. He was going to miss them.   
  
McGonagall and Barry walked quickly through the station. As the professor had said, it wasn't everyday that the Hogwarts Express pulled into town, so they had best not keep it waiting. Barry sidestepped a luggage cart and half-jogged a few steps to catch up with her. She now looked grim, and he no longer felt reassured. He knew she was thinking about the last few letters they had received from Hogwarts. It was enough to make anyone antsy. Well, anyone connected with the wizarding world.   
  
They soon approached Platform 9. Barry paused, glancing around for 9 3/4. He was still having trouble grasping the concept of a hidden magical world, and he felt crazy looking for a platform that didn't seem to exist. His mouth dropped open, however, when he observed the professor casually approach a barrier and suddenly vanish through it. Trembling slightly, he imitated her, squeezing his eyes shut in expectation of smashing into the hard brick wall before him.   
  
He kept walking, and soon opened his eyes. Confused, he whirled around. The barrier was gone. He was, he saw from the sign, at Platform 9 3/4. A small laugh escaped his lips, and he trotted happily after McGonagall, who had already boarded the huge scarlet train.   
  
As they rode along, Minerva kept her eyes on the fields flashing by until she heard Barry sighing. Glancing at him, she saw that he had fallen asleep. She drew out a small, folded piece of parchment, smoothing it gently across her knee. It was the latest letter from Dumbledore. Her eyes lit on the words "accidents" and "knife fight" and "security problems" before settling on two sentences.   
  
"I fear the school will be attacked by Lord Voldemort. Alden assures me that it won't be a problem, but I'm not so sure." Dumbledore had written in faltering green ink. A slight smirk slid across Minerva's face as she saw that the names "Lord Voldemort" and "Alden" had been printed side by side. Softly, she began humming a strange, menacing tune under her breath. It woke Barry, who glanced up at her.   
  
"What song is that?" He had heard her sing it before, but could never figure out what it was.   
  
She responded without looking up from the letter. "A song an old friend taught me. Well, he used to be a friend."   
  
"Why don't you like her?"   
  
"Who?" Minerva looked up at the boy with a frown.   
  
Barry fiddled with his sleeve cuff, head tilted sideways as he studied the old teacher. "The girl in the letter. Whots'ername, the Dumbledore kid." Seeing her questioning glance, he added, "The last time you hummed that tune, it was because you were mad at her."   
  
Minerva was quiet for a while, pulling her thoughts together. She didn't hate Alden. She was more afraid of the girl than anything. No, she didn't hate the child... she hated the child's father... hated him with her heart and soul for what he had done... "I wasn't mad at her. I was just... just upset about the curse."   
  
"Oh," Barry now lapsed into his own thoughtful silence. The curse. That was always McGonagall's excuse for her anger. It was never at Alden, always at Alden's curse. He was still slightly unsure of what the curse really was, but he had come to recognize the tune that went along with its black and ancient words.   
  
Not troubling himself with it, he allowed his thoughts to drift back to London, with Mouse and Coren... with Jenni...   
  
At last! The final class of the day was over, and the 7th years all gave a whoop of delight. Laughing and chatting, they hurried back to their rooms, changing into dress-robes for the graduation celebration.   
  
Barry felt himself being shaken awake. "We're here..." said Minerva softly. 


	16. Deadly Misunderstandings

Barry Potter - Chapter 14   
  
Hermione ran down the hall, tears in her eyes. She could hear Harry calling after her, but she kept on running. She couldn't believe it. She had trusted him...   
  
"Hermione! Wait!!" Harry pushed through students after her, trying to catch up with her. 'You're a bloody fool, Harry Potter,' he told himself, 'A bloody fool.'   
  
Suddenly, Harry felt the wind knocked out of him. He fell to the floor, where he lay gasping for breath. His vision swam in and out, but at last he was able to focus on the face of his attacker. "Ron?"   
  
The latter nodded curtly, face contorted with fury. Harry opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but Ron cut him short. "Look, I don't even want to know, Harry."   
  
Harry rolled onto his back, moaning in pain. "Why is the entire world against me?"   
  
Hermione didn't watch where she was going. She was dimly aware that she was passing other students, and that Harry wasn't yelling after her anymore. It didn't matter. How could he...?   
  
WHAM! Hermione stumbled backwards, shaking her head slightly, wondering what she could have run into. She looked up and saw Draco Malfoy, who appeared caught between a sneer and concern.   
  
"Alright then, Granger?" he asked softly, deciding to go with the concerned approach. Hermione nodded, beginning to slip past Malfoy. She felt a hand on her arm; looking up, she realized that Draco had stopped her. His pale eyes scanned her face critically, searching for the real answer to his question. For a moment their eyes met, and Hermione suddenly realized how close together they were standing. "Alright then?" he repeated, softer still and more earnestly. Hermione paused, then told him all that had passed. Draco swallowed once, then released her arm. "Go to Dumbledore. Now."   
  
Ron kicked furiously, jabbing Harry in the ribs. "Why is the entire world against you, you ask? Harry, you just tried to fukin rape Hermione!"   
  
Harry's eyes closed with pain as Ron ruthlessly kicked him again and again. He could soon feel that others had joined Ron, and a low moan escaped his throat. 'This is totally unfair.'   
  
Two bi-colored eyes scanned the grounds for an arriving carriage. They suddenly locked on two dots speeding through the air. The dots swiftly grew larger and took the forms of riders on broomstick. Soon the riders could be recognized as young women, and then as nearly identical witches, one with black hair, the other blonde.   
  
"Silvia! Kayla!" Alden called out, rushing toward them as they landed. The two sisters smiled, allowing Alden to smother them in an embrace. "What're you doing here?"   
  
"They're letting us spend a day here before our trial," Silvia explained as they began walking toward the building.   
  
"Why here?"   
  
"To keep an eye on you," Kayla replied, only half-kidding.   
  
"What were you doing outside?" Silvia threw in to prevent another question from Alden.   
  
"She was waiting for me." The three girls turned at the new voice.   
  
Alden grinned. "Professor McGonagall. Have you brought him?"   
  
The professor nodded and motioned to Barry as he stumbled out of the carriage, gaping up at the building. "We'll bring him to Harry at once."   
  
Harry leaned against the wall, panting for breath. He could vaguely sense that there was still a circle of students around him. He had held them off with his wand for a bit now, but they were still there. Circling, like great birds of prey...   
  
Then suddenly, they were gone. A single figure ran toward him. He forced his eyes to focus on the approaching figure and saw... himself?   
  
It was he, alright, down to the lightening bolt scar. Harry's mind spun. How was it possible? Then it hit him. Voldemort.   
  
Harry raised his wand and the figure stopped. Breathing heavily, Harry began the spell. "Avada..."   
  
The figure threw up his hand in surprise. "Harry! I'm your brother!"   
  
"Kadavera!!" Harry yelled, watching the green bolt shoot from the tip of his wand and strike the impostor.   
  
It was then that Barry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, twin brother of Harry Potter, died. 


	17. Topsy Turvy

Barry Potter - Chapter 15   
  
"BARRY!"   
  
Alden's scream rent through the air as she watched Barry's body crumple slowly to the floor. She ran forward as he hit the ground. Beside her she could hear the thudding footsteps of McGonagall and the Moones.   
  
Harry's eyes focused on them as they reached the now silent circle and knelt at the fallen boy's side. He felt tipsy, as though he were drunk. "I did it!" he heard himself muttering, "I killed Voldemort!"   
  
Two bi-colored eyes glared up at him. "What was that, Harry?"   
  
He shivered a little at Alden's icy tone. "I've killed Voldemort. There he is, right there at your feet."   
  
"You FOOL!" Alden shrieked, half-rising. Silvia and Kayla instinctively grabbed the back of her robes, pulling her back to the floor. She hissed at Harry, "You think that someone as pathetic as you could defeat the Dark Lord?"   
  
"I just did!" Harry saw red, anger allowing him to stand proud and tall over the four women huddled before him around his vanquished foe. "And I'm not pathetic," he added thickly.   
  
He could see her rage mounting as her fists clenched and unclenched the corpse's robes. Actually, they weren't robe, they were Muggle street clothes. No matter. He, Harry Potter, had just killed Voldemort, and annoyed Alden to boot. Wait... annoyed Alden? Why was she annoyed with him? Then realization hit him over the head like a sack of cement. His eyes narrowed as he spat, "And I know what you are, too!"   
  
"Oh really?" There was murder in Alden's eyes, but he didn't care. He could take her! Once the world knew, they'd all be behind him again.   
  
"You're a filthy, stinking Death Eater!"   
  
The silence reached an unbearable pitch. He could hear his own words echoing in the corridor, magnified by the deafening silence. For a moment, he thought he saw a smile slither across Alden's lips, much like a snake. Then he was brought back to the Earth with the sharp whisper of McGonagall's voice. "Potter! How can you dare suggest such a thing?"   
  
"It's the truth!" Surely, she must see that! Or could only he now see Voldemort dead before him, with his horrible American Death Eater crying over him?   
  
"Alden is a trusted member of the Order!"   
  
Oh. A minor flaw in his reality. Then he found the answer. "A spy!"   
  
Alden would have attacked him then and there, but Silvia's hand quickly arrested her wand arm and Kayla threw an arm around her neck. She struggled against her two friends, but they held strong, reinforced by a sharp, reprimanding whisper from McGonagall. Harry smiled triumphantly. "See? A spy. It's as if she admitted it herself!"   
  
"What, that girl? A spy? For me?"   
  
Pain greater than Harry had ever known seemed to split his head in two. He sank to the floor, howling in pain. When he managed to open his eyes again, he saw that Alden was likewise doubled over in pain, a silent scream frozen on her lips. All around them, students were screaming and running, shoving each other out of the way as they scrambled frantically from the scene. Harry raised his eyes up and beheld the horrible, snake-like face of Voldemort.   
  
The Dark Lord laughed. "What, is this the welcome Hogwarts alumni should expect?" His red eyes flashed to McGonagall, who was drawing her wand. He tutted slightly. "Oh, I don't think so, Minerva. CRUCIO!!"   
  
Minerva McGonagall dropped to the ground, writhing in pain as a horrifying screech escaped her lips. Harry watched as her body flew into spasms, still with the ear-splitting howl of pain and despair. Harry reached for his own wand. It was all impossible, he had just killed Voldemort....   
  
The Dark Lord laughed again, a chilling sound. Harry saw his wand whisked away and fly into Voldemort's hand. The horrid red eyes mocked him, glittering with cruel pleasure at Minerva's pain. "Come, Potter," he hissed softly, "Look at her pain. Imperio!" Harry's eyes were drawn to his professor's body as her limbs twisted and struck out, the horrible scream still bursting from her lips. For one horrible moment, Harry felt his eyes light up as he fleetingly found deep satisfaction in her suffering. He tore his eyes away, his stomach doing backflips at his enjoyment of her pain. "Yes," he heard Voldemort's voice whisper, "Yes, you like it, don't you? Search your feelings, Potter... the truth is there, though it's hidden... you're just as awful as I am, Potter..."   
  
"Reducto!"   
  
Suddenly, the wind was knocked out of him as he was slammed against the wall by an invisible force. Harry's eyes blinked open, and he saw that McGonagall, Alden, and the Moones were thrown against the opposite wall, and fleeing students had been strewn about the hall. Voldemort appeared rattled; he hadn't cast the spell. His horrid eyes darted over those before him, seeking the fool who had dared try to knock him down. The boy before him, crouched on one knee, wand already drawn... now rising from the crouch... shaking his white-blonde hair from his fiery eyes...   
  
Voldemort's lips curled into a smile as he saw Draco Malfoy standing before him, wand raised. "Ah, yes," he said softly, "One of my most devoted followers..."   
  
"Not anymore," Draco hissed through clenched teeth, "Father!"   
  
Voldemort's eyes grew wide, temporarily confused. "What are you saying? I'm not your father!"   
  
"No," growled a softer, more feminine voice, "But you're someone's father!"   
  
The Dark Lord glanced toward the second voice as its owner drew her wand. As he opened his mouth, three voices rang through the air. "Avada Kedavra!"   
  
Three beams of light hit Voldemort square in the chest. For a moment Harry saw his horrible snake eyes, reeling and confused, stunned by some sort of shock. Then they shone with a terrible dead light, and the corpse of the man who had been Tom Riddle hit the ground with one last terrifying scream.   
  
Dazed, Harry looked around. There had been three beams of light. One came from Draco, obviously. The haughty Slytherin stood very still, though he was breathing heavily. His face was paler than usual, and his eyes were shining with a dull look of painful victory.   
  
Harry turned toward where the other two had emitted from. Both Alden and Kayla's wands were drawn, though both were down. Both girls were breathing as heavily as Draco. Kayla had a vaguely pleased look about her. Alden, on the other hand, had her eyes closed, and was leaning her head back against the wall. His eyes moved on to Silvia and McGonagall. They were both slumped against the wall, apparently stunned by the blow. And standing tall above them...   
  
Albus Dumbledore was quietly pocketing his wand and bending down toward Minerva. He touched her shoulder, making her move slightly and mutter something. His pale blue eyes turned from the fallen professor over the entire hallway. They drank in everything; those near him leaning against the wall, students beginning to tentatively rise and look around terrified, Draco standing panting in the middle of everything, Voldemort's body having a last spasm of life, and at last Harry thrown against the wall, beside whom lay a corpse identical to the living boy...   
  
There was a roar of anger, making Harry's head whip around. A Death Eater was tearing down the hall toward his fallen master. The mask was whipped off as he ran, revealing the face of Lucius Malfoy, contorted with rage.   
  
The elder Malfoy threw himself down beside Voldemort, screeching insanely as he tried in vain to rouse the fallen Lord. With a howl not dissimilar to a wounded wolf, Lucius raised himself onto one knee, eyes flashing wildly about the hall.   
  
"Who did this?" he shrieked, "WHO DID THIS??"   
  
Dumbledore opened his mouth calmly to say something, but Draco's clear voice cut him off. "I did it, Father."   
  
Lucius gaped at his son for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft with shock. "Draco?" When the boy nodded curtly, he said in disbelief, "You couldn't have! You're just a child!"   
  
"I had help," Draco was now raising his wand again.   
  
"But why?" Lucius' voice was beginning to build to a hysterical pitch. "Why did you aid in the destruction of our Lord?"   
  
"Your Lord, you mean," his son replied coolly, "I'll tell you why I did it. I did it because I thought he was you!"   
  
With another terrible shriek, Lucius whipped out his wand. Draco was ready for him. And, apparently, so were others.   
  
"Imperio!"   
  
"Avada Kedavra!"   
  
"Expecto Patronum!"   
  
"Reducto!"   
  
There was a deafening explosion, and Harry felt himself snapped back against the wall. When his eyes opened, he blinked away a cloud of haze. Dumbledore's wand was raised and quivering; Harry guessed he had used the Reductor Curse which had managed to throw Draco backwards a yard. Alden's eyes were flashing as she once again dropped her wand, breathing slowly and heavily. Her Patronus stood near Harry, apparently having charged Lucius. He had only a moment to guess what it was before it faded; it had appeared to be a dark wolven creature with glaring snake eyes.   
  
Near his feet lay the limp body of Lucius Malfoy, fallen back over the body of the Dark Lord with a look of surprise on his face. He could only assume that the late Mr. Malfoy had used the Imperius Curse, for some reason. Meaning Draco had cast the Killing Curse...   
  
There was a girlish squeal, and Harry saw Hermione running down the corridor toward them. He smiled for a moment; she wanted to see if he was alright. She would throw herself sobbing into his arms, all past misunderstandings forgotten, she would smother him with much needed affection...   
  
Hermione tore right by past Harry, and threw herself down at Draco's side. Draco's eyes were closed, and his breath was coming in sharp gasps. Tears in her eyes, Hermione gathered his body up into her arms.   
  
His eyes fluttered open. A smile slowly spread onto his face. "What, Granger?"   
  
"Are you all right?" She felt tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. She didn't care.   
  
Draco raised a hand, slowly brushing some tears from her face. "I did it, Hermione," he breathed, a half-dazed look in his eyes, "I killed him. I'm free now."   
  
"Hush," Hermione tutted, not quiet sure what she was saying. In fact, she wasn't quite sure why she was there, holding Draco Malfoy in her arms. Again, she realized. The last time, he had been bleeding to death from a knife wound, but Alden had saved him...   
  
Hermione's eyes swiftly flew from Draco's face to Alden's, but the American was in no condition to heal anyone. Alden's face was pale and tired, a thin line of blood trickling down from her mouth, and her leg seemed bent just the wrong way. Dumbledore was bent over her, gently examining the twisted leg and the gash at the back of Kayla's head.   
  
With a sound of despair, Hermione turned back to Draco. She couldn't fully explain the feeling bubbling up in her chest as she studied his handsome face, but she didn't care. He was gazing up into her eyes, trademark smirk vanishing into a beautiful smile. "Hermione," he said softly, gripping onto her arm as it encircled his head, "Hermione, I think I love you."   
  
"Still?"   
  
"What do you mean, 'still?'"   
  
"I mean, I've always hated you, and I stabbed you, and all..."   
  
Draco laughed, but the laugh turned into a raspy cough, so he stopped. He put his hand on the back of her neck, drawing her toward him. "Still."   
  
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off as Draco pulled her toward him the rest of the way and planted a pleasantly warm kiss on her lips.   
  
Harry watched in silence. He could feel the last little bit of his reality threatening to drain away from him. He felt better as he imagined Ron's rage at seeing Hermione and Draco together like... that. There was Ron now, stumbling toward them from the other end of the hall...   
  
"Alden!" Ron dropped down at her side, grabbing her shoulder. Her face was now deathly pale, and her eyes were closed. Her breath was very slow... or was she breathing?   
  
"She's fine, Ron," Dumbledore spoke softly, comfortingly, "Just let her gather her strength."   
  
Ron nodded dumbly, gently touching Alden's cheek then wiping the blood from where it continued to dribble down her chin. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he watched the tender gestures. "Ron? Will you keep an eye on her until I can get the Moones and McGonagall to the medical wing?"   
  
Not waiting for a reply, Dumbledore rose and raised his wand. He helped Kayla to rise and stumble down the corridor, the bodies of Minerva and Silvia floating before him. Ron watched him go, then shot an accusing look at Harry. Harry opened to mouth to say something, but was at a loss for what to say. He watched his red-haired friend gently put his arm around Alden's shoulders. Her head fell onto Ron's shoulder, making him smile and kiss her softly on the forehead.   
  
Ron and Alden, Draco and Hermione. It made Harry sick.   
  
Dean struggled to rise as he saw Silvia floating down the hallway toward him. "What happened? Silvia?" Dean's head spun. He couldn't really remember what had happened...   
  
"Come along with us, Mr. Thomas," Dumbledore's soft voice directed, "I'm taking them to the medical wing." Dean fell silently into step beside Silvia, eyes scanning her face for signs of life.   
  
Remus Lupin came running down the hall, followed closely by Tonks and Moody. He could hear the footsteps of other order members pounding along behind them. He soon saw Harry, and slowed. "We got most of 'em, only one Death Eater managed to escape. But what happened to Voldemo-"   
  
His voice trailed off as he drank in the scene before him. Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy lay dead at his feet. A few paces away, Harry sat slumped against the wall near a corpse with his face. Ron sat across the hall, Alden leaning on his shoulder, and in the middle of everything were Draco and Hermione. Remus ran a hand through his hair, looking old and tired. "There's going to be a lot of explaining to do."   
  
With a tranquil smile, Dumbledore appeared at the end of the hallway. "Indeed. And we'll start at the beginning." 


	18. Epilogue : Letters

Barry Potter - Epilogue   
  
Ron Weasly sat up in bed, having woken with a start. Sweat was pouring down his forehead, and he was trembling slightly. He looked around the silent bedroom; he was alone.   
  
Hastily pulling on some robes, he stumbled from the room and down the stairs. He found his way to the living room, and hastily lit a fire. For a moment, the only sound was the crackling fire and a slight scuffle as Ron searched for his box of Floo powder. When he had found it, he threw a handful into the fire, said, "25 Main, Oxford," and stepped into the emerald flames.   
  
Alden was sitting up by the fireside when he arrived, almost as if she had been waiting for him. She was studying a letter, and there were others on the table before her. Without looking up at him, she asked, "Isn't it a bit early?"   
  
Ron stood sheepishly for a moment, trying to put into words the reason he had come. All that came out was, "Well, you're awake, aren't you?"   
  
She laughed, raising her eyes to meet his. Shaking her head slightly, she patted the couch beside her, saying, "I'll never understand you. Sit."   
  
He sank onto the couch beside her, giving her a tiny peck on the cheek and throwing an arm casually about her shoulders. She leaned back, supported by his strong chest. Tucking her head underneath his chin, she asked, "What's wrong?"   
  
"I had a dream about... you know, the day You Know Who died."   
  
"Ron," she gave a little sigh, "It's been an entire year since. Can't you put it behind you?"   
  
"Well," Ron replied, mocking her sigh, "It was an emotional day for me. An emotional year for me."   
  
Alden turned her head around to look up at him. "How so?"   
  
"Well, I made friends with Draco, realized what a jerk Harry was, was nearly killed by You Know Who, and met you."   
  
She rolled her eyes. "It wasn't that bad."   
  
Ron rolled his eyes right back at her. "It would have been better if I hadn't met you."   
  
"Aw, I hate you too."   
  
"As long as we're in agreement."   
  
She laughed again as she turned her eyes back to the letter in her hands. He leaned his head against hers, asking, "Who's that from?"   
  
"Oh, Jenni. You know, Barry's girl friend. She decided to join that nunnery after all."   
  
"Good for her. Better than suicide."   
  
"True."   
  
"What'd she say?"   
  
"None of your business." Alden tossed the letter down onto the table and reached for another one. "Look, here's one from Hermione."   
  
She unfolded the letter and they quickly read over it.   
  
"Alden -   
  
Hope you are well. I just learned that you'll be coming to our wedding. Fantastic! It's so much more convenient that you've decided to stay on in Oxford, you'll receive news much faster this way. We've tentatively set the date for the 10th of July, but wanted to make sure that it didn't conflict with your plans. I heard about your father, so I assure you we'll try to plan around whichever date you set. We're also trying to make it after Kayla's release, so she can come.   
  
I was just thinking the other day about the day I stabbed Draco. You know, I heard what you said to Ron about thanking you later. I still can't figure out why. If you don't write back for any other reason, at least explain that to me!   
  
Love, Hermione G. & Draco L. Malfoy"   
  
"What's that bit about your father?" Ron frowned. He hadn't heard any news concerning Alden's father. In fact, he was quite sure that her father was dead...   
  
"The other day, the Ministry ruled to give me his ashes," she replied quietly, "So that I can give him a proper burial."   
  
"Oh." Ron bit his lip. He knew that Alden's father was a touchy subject, so he picked up a third letter. "Have you read this one? It's from Silvia."   
  
"No, give it here," she took the letter and skimmed it briefly. Her face lightened up, and she smiled to herself. "Well, look at that. Dean's proposed to her!"   
  
"Let me see." They read the letter together. Indeed, it seemed that Dean had proposed to Silvia two days before.   
  
"...But it won't be official until July 7th, when Kayla gets out. So don't tell anyone, especially not Ron. He's sure to tell everyone!" Alden read, laughing out loud.   
  
Ron gasped in imaginary outrage. "What? Do your friends think so little of me?"   
  
"Yes," Alden's eyes sparkled playfully, "But I love you anyway!" She gave him a light kiss on the cheek before picking up a forth letter. "Here's one from Uncle."   
  
"Alden -   
  
I heard that your friend Kayla is being released from Azkaban on July 7. Congratulations! I'm glad the sentence was so short. She might have been thrown in for life.   
  
Of course I'll come to the funeral. Just don't set the date for June 28. Minerva has arranged for a memorial at Jenni's nunnery that day. For Barry, you know. I hope it will be a point of closure for the poor girl. I'm thankful that she took my suggestion and didn't throw her life away.   
  
Remus said to give you his regards, so I'll pass them on to you. He's headed to Transylvania to look for some old mates of his, and should be back by July 1. He asked if you'd like him to attend the funeral as well. He also said to tell Ron, if he's still going out with you, to be careful of you. I'm not sure why, but he said you'd understand.   
  
Hope you are well.   
  
Uncle Albus"   
  
"I don't get it. Why should I be careful of you?"   
  
Alden tossed the letter aside, smile playing across her lips. For a moment, just a moment, her smile appeared snake-like to Ron. Then it was gone and she was laughing softly. "Just a little joke we have about my curse."   
  
"I don't get it."   
  
"Forget it, then."   
  
"I think I will."   
  
"Fine."   
  
There was a silence, then Ron said, "I still have some questions, though."   
  
"About what?"   
  
"About you. About the Moones. About You Know Who, and Harry, and everything."   
  
"I'll only answer one question."   
  
"Fine, here it is. What happened to Harry?"   
  
"I think he's at St. Mungo's."   
  
"Why?"   
  
"That's two questions."   
  
"No, it's an extension of the same question. What'd you do to him?"   
  
"I'll carry my secret to my grave."   
  
"You worry me."   
  
"I worry a lot of people."   
  
Ron grinned, stroking her cheek gently as she leaned on his shoulder gazing up at him. At last she closed her eyes, nestling her head more snugly on Ron's shoulder. His eyes wandered around the familiar living room. The fire flickered warmly in the hearth, casting light on the dusty odds and ends strewn about the room. His eye was drawn to a framed piece of parchment on the wall, apparently a Transfiguration license. He frowned at it.   
  
"Alden?"   
  
"Hm?"   
  
"What's your middle name?"   
  
"Haven't got one."   
  
"Yes you have. See, there it says, 'Alden R. Dumbledore.' What's the 'R' stand for?"   
  
"My father's surname."   
  
"Oh."   
  
"G'night, Ron."   
  
"G'night, Menace."   
  
She smiled, eyes still closed. Ron leaned his head down onto hers and closed his own eyes. This was the way it was meant to be... 


End file.
